Syd & Michel
by Old Romantic
Summary: Based on the premise behind the movie, Kate & Leopold. Set in early Season One, but very AU.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Syd & Michel  
  
Author: Emily, Em, a/k/a "Old Romantic"  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Genre: Romance  
  
Beta: Tracie a/k/a "auntof3"  
  
Disclaimer: I will not make any money off of this fic, using the characters we all know and love from our favorite TV show, Alias, nor off of the premise behind the movie, "Kate & Leopold". I just like writing! Translations throughout the fic are courtesy of www.freetranslation.com.  
  
Summary: Based on the premise of the movie "Kate & Leopold". Sydney's a double, but Vaughn is not her handler and she's never met Weiss. Takes place very early in Season One, but definitely very AU.  
  
Enjoy!  
  
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Prologue:  
  
Sydney Bristow walked across UCLA's expansive campus, and dropped her crumpled paper bag into the garbage can she'd chosen, having entered the number designated for the receptacle on her cell phone just minutes earlier. If all went well, her handler, Joe Woods would be making contact in order to meet to discuss the countermission. Woods was a pretty decent guy; a professional whom she worked well with, who did whatever it took to keep her safe. He was a great husband and father who liked to show off the latest pictures of his two boys and one girl, in their soccer uniforms or at their gymnastics meets. Sydney was a little envious of his family, considering theirs was the kind of family she could only have dreamed of as a child, and he was just the type of dad that she wished her own father could have been replaced by. But things had changed in the previous few months since discovering that the agency she worked for was not part of the CIA, and her relationship with her father was improving, a little bit at a time—starting when she discovered they had something in common as double agents.  
  
She smirked as she walked out into the courtyard of UCLA, wondering just how Woods was going to react to the latest mission Sloane was getting ready to send her on. As ridiculous as it sounded, she was sure he was going to bust a gut laughing, and she only wished she could be there to see his face when he reads her note on the bag.  
  
Sloane had been serious when he discussed it with her and Dixon. And considering the risks, Sloane had asked that only one would volunteer for the op, in case it proved to be deadly. Sydney was the first to speak up and although Dixon balked, neither he nor Sloane argued. Since Danny's death, she'd been taking more risks than ever, not caring how many times she'd cheated death in the few months she'd been back on active duty, and whenever Sloane and Dixon had cautioned her, she'd exploded in rage. So, in short, they'd learned to keep their mouths shut, and just let her have her way.  
  
The mission sounded simple enough anyway, albeit laughable. It seems that Rambaldi kept a journal that was lost sometime late in the 19th century. The last person to have it was a man named Michel Vaughn. And after his death, it disappeared without a trace. Considering that Sloane had almost all of Rambaldi's pieces with no instructions on how to assemble them, finding this journal had become his top priority.  
  
Sydney had an idea that the CIA wouldn't believe Marshall's suggestion into finding the journal. She was sure it was a joke, not to mention, completely impossible.  
  
Seriously, who really believed in time travel?  
  
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Chapter 1:  
  
"You have got to be kidding me," Sydney said, completely dumbfounded at what she was hearing. "They really want me to go?"  
  
"Well," Woods answered with a nod. "Yeah." He turned slightly and leaned on the edge of the table in the dark warehouse. "It should be pretty easy. Once you get the journal, simply take pictures of each page with this," he handed her a small camera, "and give SD-6 the journal when you get back."'  
  
Sydney was still confused and scrunched up her face at her handler. "You really believe this is possible? Time travel?"  
  
He shrugged, "I'm open to the possibility. It could be fun."  
  
"Fun? Really? Do you want to do it for me?"  
  
"Not a chance. I'd miss Sally's next meet on Saturday." Sydney shook her head and quietly paced around on the concrete floor. "Are you okay?" he asked her when she didn't seem to want to argue the point anymore.  
  
"I guess I'm in shock. I'd assumed that the CIA would think this was as ridiculous as I do."  
  
"Well, there's the possibility that Marshall's theory will work—"  
  
"Or it'll kill me," she added dryly.  
  
He gave her a look and continued, "I doubt that, and then Sloane would be in possession of something that could be dangerous, and one step ahead of us. We need to stay ahead of him, you know. Oh yeah. Since we can't have you on comms, we don't want you to go alone."  
  
"But you said you couldn't come," she commented with confusion.  
  
He shook his head. "No, I can't. But the agent going with you is completely capable and trustworthy, I promise you."  
  
"Does he know what he's in for?"  
  
Woods laughed. "Well, not yet. But he's heard about your reputation and he actually volunteered for this."  
  
"Great. I have a groupie?"  
  
"Spies don't have groupies."  
  
They both laughed. "So what's this agent's name?"  
  
"Eric Weiss. He'll meet you at the Eiffel Tower at nine o'clock. So after Marshall calls in the bomb threat and they start the evacuation, that's when you and Weiss will go."  
  
"Okay. I guess that's everything then," she said, preparing to leave. "In case I don't make it back, it's been nice working with you."  
  
"Think positive, Sydney. And have a safe, uh...trip."  
  
"Thanks," she smirked, rolling her eyes. "Tell Sally good luck at her meet."  
  
He nodded with a smile. "I will."  
  
## ## ##  
  
Michel Vaughn couldn't sleep. It didn't matter that it was getting late, or that he had enough alcohol in his system to knock him out for an entire ten hours. His mind was racing as usual, preventing him from even considering sleep.  
  
He was standing on the balcony off of his bedroom, thinking about his research on Milo Rambaldi. He'd always been fascinated by him since he was a child, and walked in on his father's work one evening and ended up spending hours questioning him about every detail of Rambaldi's prophecies. Michel had taken over his work after his death and cherished every moment of it as a connection to his late father. But Elizabeth had been right—it was beginning to affect his personal relationships to an unhealthy level. He didn't want to bring up the fact that maybe it wasn't the work that was keeping him from seeing her, but the fact that he didn't care as much about her as he would've liked for a fiancé. He was expected to marry her in a less than a year, but he'd been trying to come up with a good reason to break it off, other than the fact that he didn't love her with his whole heart. Michel Vaughn was nothing if not a noble gentleman.  
  
As a roll of thunder rumbled across the sky, he sighed and picked up his wine glass off of the railing, swirled it around in the glass before taking a swill of the robust red liquid. He wasn't sure what it was that was keeping him awake—his relationship problems or the fact that he didn't know what step to take next with collecting Rambaldi's artifacts. In truth, he'd come to a dead end in the search for the man's creations—what had been scattered all over the world four hundred years earlier was still lost, with the exception of a few pieces that he himself owned.  
  
Strolling over to his desk inside the open patio doors, he picked up the blank page from Rambaldi's journal and stared at it, knowing there must be something special about that page that he just couldn't see. He knew Rambaldi well enough to know he wouldn't just throw a blank page in for no reason. Whatever it was would truly be a revelation.  
  
Hearing a noise outside, Michel set his glass down on the desk, and went to investigate, pulling a knife from his boot for protection. He'd been trained in the French army, and was an excellent marksman who was also victorious in hand-to-hand combat. He could handle himself, and more than once, had to fight off intruders who were trying to steal Rambaldi's works from his home. He wouldn't be surprised if that's what the noise was again.  
  
Armed with his knife, he stealthily stepped back out onto the balcony and checked every dark corner, leaning over the railing to look down the three stories to the well-kept grounds around his estate. When he reached the end of the balcony, he found a black rope with an anchor, hooked onto the railing.  
  
Immediately, he knew that someone was inside, and he ran back into his bedroom through the second set of doors. The "someone" was dressed in tight black pants and a long-sleeved, figure-hugging sweater, and Michel could tell by the feminine shape of the hips that it was obviously not a man. "Vous là-bas! (You there!)" he yelled to get her attention, and she spun around with her eyes wide, and her arms holding the Rambaldi journal.  
  
For a moment, her beauty and the innocence he saw flicker in her eyes took his breath away, before she turned to run from the room with the book in hand. Slipping the knife back into its place on his ankle, he grabbed a coat, chased her down the main stairs and out of the house, down the road from his manor, not able to keep up with her long stride. "Attente!! (Wait!!)" he yelled, but she continued to run away from him.  
  
Without a doubt, he knew he couldn't watch her get away with that book—the one thing he'd worked so hard to possess. It started to rain as he followed her all the way to the Eiffel Tower and chased her up the stairs.  
  
## ## ##  
  
Weiss was waiting for Sydney, checking his watch every minute it seemed, hoping that she would make it back in time. He certainly didn't want to leave without her, and have to return to the CIA in the future and be the bearer of bad news that she was unfortunately stuck in the past. He saw her coming, but he wasn't prepared for her to yell, "Run!! Someone's following me! We have to go!"  
  
Without a moment's hesitation, they both ran as fast as they could up the stairs to their jumping off point, as Sydney put the strap of her bag over her head to better balance herself.  
  
"Who...is it?" Weiss asked between heavy breaths as they climbed.  
  
"I...don't...know...I think...it's...Vaughn." They reached the level that they were supposed to jump from, and hurriedly walked to the edge. "You go first," she told him as she panted to regulate her breathing. "I'll fight him off if I have to...and I'll be right behind you."  
  
"He can't see us jump, Syd—"  
  
"Go!!" she yelled forcefully, and Weiss obediently jumped.  
  
After another glance around and finding that Vaughn was nowhere in sight, she jumped too, and found herself caught by the wrist, dangling precariously caught in someone's grip. She looked up, blinking against the raindrops, right into Michel Vaughn's green eyes.  
  
"Je ne vous permettez pas de fais ceci! (I cannot let you do this!)" he yelled over the rain that was pouring as he tried to keep the water out of his eyes.  
  
"Let me go!!" she argued in shock. Then she remembered to speak to him in French in case he didn't understand, "Me permettre de va!"  
  
"Non! (No!) Cela enregistre vous avez m'appartenez! (That book you have belongs to me!) Je veux qu'il soutient! (I want it back!)"  
  
"Je suis désolé! (I'm sorry!) Je peux't fait cela, et vous me permets d'allez maintenant! (I can't do that, and you have to let me go right now!!)" Sydney's hand started slipping from his, and he tried unsuccessfully to keep a tight grip on her. "Me permettre de va!" (Let me go!)" she repeated. "Please..." she said, slipping back into English, feeling her eyes turn down as she looked for his sympathy.  
  
Vaughn didn't fight to hold her anymore, but he didn't let go, and just watched as she slipped from his fingers, and disappeared into the fog below. The book! He thought about how she still had it when she dropped, and without a further thought for his own safety, he jumped.  
  
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"Did you get any pictures?" Weiss asked her as they started to walk back toward her hotel from their landing zone.  
  
"Yeah, a few," she answered absently, her mind still lingering on Vaughn's face that last second before she slipped from his fingers. If she didn't know any better, she was sure that he let her have the book and go. Maybe he ran back down to the ground just to collect his book, after he was sure I committed suicide, she thought to rid herself of the strange feeling in her chest.  
  
As they walked out from behind the bushes that so gratefully covered their unusual entrance, Sydney nearly tripped over something and had to work to keep her balance. One look back at the offensive object in the dark and her heart stopped. "Oh my god."  
  
"What?" Weiss stopped from his position ten feet ahead of her and turned in curiosity.  
  
Her eyes traveled from the boot she tripped over, up the tan pant leg, and the long, dark raincoat to the short, brown hair of the man whose eyes were closed. He was lying on his stomach; his face turned on one cheek and the dimple in his chin was the one clearly identifying mark Sydney recognized as she studied him. "It's Vaughn," she told Weiss as he walked back toward her.  
  
He shook his head. "Oh, my god," he exclaimed too. "Is he dead?"  
  
Sydney knelt quickly and touched his cheek, finding it warm with life, and then slid her fingertips to check his pulse. "No. I think he's passed out." She blinked as she ran her fingers through the short hair above his ears. "He must've jumped," she thought out loud.  
  
Weiss ran a hand through his hair. "Well, how do we get him back?"  
  
"I don't know." She turned her face to look up at her CIA partner.  
  
"Well, we have to figure out a way and fast," he said nervously, causing Sydney to continue to stare up at him curiously as she remained kneeling beside the unconscious body. Weiss started pacing and rubbing his face.  
  
"Weiss, don't freak out about it," she told him. "I'm sure we won't get in trouble for this."  
  
"That's not what I'm worried about."  
  
"Then what's the problem?"  
  
"You don't understand how important this is. He's my--" he clasped his hand across his mouth.  
  
"He's your...what?" she asked when he didn't continue.  
  
He stopped in front of her and gestured with his hands. "One of the reasons I volunteered for this assignment was because Michel Vaughn was my great-great-grandfather."  
  
Sydney stood up beside him in shock and looked from him to Vaughn on the ground. She shook her head perplexedly and focused her eyes back on her partner. "I thought the name 'Weiss' was German."  
  
"It is. But that my father's side. Michel Vaughn was on my mother's side of the family."  
  
"So if we don't get him back..." she let the sentence dangle and Weiss finished it for her.  
  
He nodded as he said, "I will cease to exist. Along with God-knows-how- many more." He ran his hand through his hair again. "This is huge."  
  
Shaking her head, Sydney said only what she knew for sure. "I'm going to have to ask Marshall."  
  
The look in Weiss's eyes showed that he understood and he nodded. "Alright," he conceded with a sigh and leaned over to start to pick up Vaughn by the shoulders. "I can't believe I'm saying this about my great- great-grandfather in Paris in the middle of the night, but...here, grab his legs."  
  
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	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I should warn you that you'll have more fun with this story if you don't nitpick the details. With that said, enjoy!  
  
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Chapter 2:  
  
"So, what do you know about him?" Sydney asked as they walked and carried Vaughn through the darkness, hoping not to get noticed. They'd already planned to play it off as if he was drunk if anyone asked.  
  
Weiss was telling her what he knew between breaths as they walked, "Well, he was obsessed with Rambaldi...as you already know. He devoted his whole life to putting the pieces together. Of course...with the lack of technology like we have today...he didn't get very far."  
  
"Huh," she grunted in answer, while balancing his ankles in one hand to be able to open the front door of the hotel. Weiss had already used the signal jammer they had before nearing the hotel on the off chance that SD-6 had tapped into the security system. But at the moment, Sydney wasn't worried about being found out by her organization's security section; she was too interested in the man being toted between her and Weiss. She wanted to ask if Weiss knew if Vaughn was married at that stage of his life, but knew it was girlish and silly to even be thinking it, so she pushed it from her mind.  
  
They wordlessly carried Vaughn to her room, ignoring the strange looks from the few members of the hotel staff that were about their business, and once safely behind her room door, Weiss laid him out on the bed. He then removed Vaughn's muddy boots while Sydney stuck to the plan and took pictures of each page of the journal with the tiny CIA-issue camera.  
  
"What am I going to tell him in the morning?" Sydney asked as Weiss prepared to leave with both cameras in hand.  
  
"I've heard you're great at improvisation--"  
  
"Don't remind me."  
  
"—Make up something." She gave him a derisive look as he continued, "I'll just get the pictures copied and give you back SD-6's camera before dawn." She nodded in response and waited as he opened the door. Before she closed it behind him, he turned back and said, "Hey, let me know how the conversation with Marshall goes. And take care of him—my future depends on it."  
  
Sydney smirked again, but knew that behind his tease was a serious request. "I will," Sydney promised and then closed and locked the door.  
  
Once alone, she dutifully picked up her cell phone and dialed Marshall and explained the situation to him. After his initial shock and subsequent freak-out over what Vaughn's missing from the past would do to the space- time continuum, Sydney managed to get him calmed down and asked how she could get him back. "Well, uh, the next opportunity," she heard him shuffling papers around, "would be next week. Monday."  
  
"Monday??" she yelled, and then hushed to keep from waking Vaughn. "Marshall, that's over a week away!"  
  
"I'm...sorry. I'll tell Mr. Sloane and find out what he wants you to do until then."  
  
"Great," she sighed, and then said, "Thanks Marshall."  
  
She hung up with him, picked up her CIA phone, activated her bug-killer, and dialed Weiss. She told him what Marshall had said, and then complained, "This is going to be a long week."  
  
"Yeah, well. It could be worse."  
  
"How?" she wondered out loud.  
  
"You could be seeing Sloane again tomorrow. This way, it's like you're getting a forced vacation."  
  
"Vacation? More like a babysitting job."  
  
"Okay, so maybe it's not a bed of roses. But just try to get some sleep. I'll see you at five a.m."  
  
"Gee, thanks for your help."  
  
"Sleep tight," Weiss teased, and Sydney felt like sticking her tongue out at him if he could see her. But instead she just hung up and shook her head in amusement.  
  
She hadn't known Weiss very long—having just had a short conversation just before their first jump to go back in time—but she sensed that they could be good friends if and when the Alliance was gone. But that hope was slowly turning into an impossible dream to her. What had started out as revenge on Sloane for killing Danny had slowly dwindled, and she realized it was gradually draining the life out of her. Was it really worth it all? She didn't know.  
  
Realizing she was still drenched, wearing her wet clothes, she grabbed some clean clothes from her small suitcase to change into. She went into the privacy of the bathroom, took a quick shower and dressed in a clean tank top and pajama pants, brushed her teeth and hair, and then shut off the light in the bathroom and considered where to sleep. Besides the bed—where Vaughn had rolled to his side, landing in the middle—there were only two chairs, and the prospect of trying to sleep sitting up didn't appeal to her.  
  
Looking back to the queen-sized bed, she realized there was plenty of room to share it with him, and she'd have to be awake before dawn anyway to meet with Weiss. Making her decision, she stood on Vaughn's side of the bed and rolled him toward her on his back, noticing that he was still wearing his wet trench coat. She sighed, not wanting him to wake up cold, and worked one sleeve off of his arm and then rolling him to get the other, and when she tried to pull the coat out from under him, he ended up on the other side of the bed on his stomach. Draping the coat over a chair, Sydney turned and noticed he'd flipped to his back again and she stood back and surveyed him.  
  
He was dead to the world now, with an arm haphazardly draped across his face; his right hand resting on his chest. She gently pulled his left arm down to look at his face a little more closely now that he was still and quiet and in better lighting.  
  
Her first thought was that he looked sleep-deprived by the bags under his eyes and the wrinkles on his forehead that she sensed came out in concentration or anger or worry. Whatever the cause, they were present at the moment, and she wondered what he was dreaming about. His face was strong with the slightest amount of stubble on his chin, and his long eyelashes were resting still on his cheeks. His nose had a bump and looked like it might've been broken sometime in his past, but somehow—along with his thin lips that Sydney's gaze lingered on a little too long—it gave him the kind of character that she admired.  
  
She rubbed her face in frustration. 'What am I doing? I don't know anything about his character! And he's basically over a hundred years old!' She started to stand when she realized she still held his left hand in hers, and instead slowly sat back down, shocked by her own actions. But, she just couldn't let it go. Continuing to hold it, she stroked the back of his hand with her thumb and wondered what his life was like; if he used his hands to write, or dig for Rambaldi's artifacts, or to caress a woman's face. Was he married? Was he engaged? Was Weiss's great-great- grandmother a hundred years into the past missing him from her bed?  
  
Shaking off the inane desire she still had to find out, Sydney stood, let go of his hand, and finished turning off the lights in the room before folding the bedspread over him to keep him warm and slipping between the sheets beside him.  
  
The moonlight filtering in through the curtains highlighted the angles of his face and Sydney couldn't stop herself from staring at him again. He seemed so intense, so deep in thought, and yet so soundly asleep at the same time. As she watched, a smile played at the corner of his lips and Sydney found her lips automatically curving up at the same time.  
  
The feeling in her chest was overwhelming at the sight of him and she forced her eyes shut to sleep, but found that she couldn't stop them from popping open again. As she stared, he adjusted himself to lie on his side, facing her, and his arm reached out for her, his hand landing on hers.  
  
Sydney's first instinct would have been to flinch and pull her hand away, but for some reason, it felt natural and right and something she needed more than she realized. So instead, the feeling of his touch was enough to make her relax, and before she knew it, she was asleep.  
  
## ## ##  
  
Michel Vaughn's eyes opened slowly and looked up to a strangely textured ceiling. Without even looking around, he knew he was not in his bedroom. He sat up in confusion and leaned on his hand, studying everything in the room. Under his hand, a button was pushed on a small, black box and another, larger box in the corner of the roared to life, and loud voices and moving pictures on the front talked about something called 'entertainment news'.  
  
He jumped back in fear and surprise, and fell off the edge of the bed, landing on his rear, bumping his head on the nightstand behind him. Sydney was opening the door to the room when she heard the television come on, and a loud thump, and rushed in to find Vaughn in that fearful position on the floor, staring at the TV in horror.  
  
She rushed to his side, grabbed the remote off of the bed and clicked the television off, before kneeling in front of him. "Are you okay?" She shook her head and repeated in French, "Allez-vous bien?"  
  
"I speak English," he told her and then quickly started firing off questions. "What was that noise?" He pointed. "The-the talking-the people—Where did that come from?"  
  
"It...it's hard to explain--"  
  
"Who are you?? And where am I??"  
  
"You're in Paris--"  
  
"I am NOT in Paris!"  
  
"Yes, you are!"  
  
"No I am not!"  
  
"Mr. Vaughn, you ARE in Paris, but you are NOT in eighteen-ninety!"  
  
That silenced him for a moment, and blinked about seven times before asking, "What?"  
  
Sydney sat back a little and kept eye contact as she explained, "Try to understand this... You...you're in the future. This is the year two thousand one."  
  
He tried to let that sink in, but he found the words, "That's impossible," quietly slipping from his throat.  
  
"Is it?" She shook her head in mild amusement at his naïveté. "Have a look outside."  
  
Eyeing her suspiciously, he stood up beside her as she opened the drapes so that he could see the city. Immediately recognizing a few old landmarks among all of the twentieth century buildings and structures, Sydney could tell it was starting to sink in. "Oh, my god," he murmured in disbelief, as he watched machines he'd never seen on the roads, and listened to the strange noises outside of their window.  
  
Sydney watched his profile to make sure he wasn't going to pass out, and then when she was sure he was okay, she told him, "I'll tell you everything, but I thought you might want to freshen up first. I bought you some things," she picked up a plastic bag off of the foot of the bed where she'd dropped it, and started rifling through it, "Some shaving cream and a razor, your own toothbrush and comb, and deodorant--"  
  
He touched the plastic bag with his fingertips and asked, "What is this?"  
  
"These are the things I bought."  
  
"No. This material—what is it?" he asked again.  
  
She realized that he was talking about the bag itself. "Oh, it's plastic."  
  
"Plastic?"  
  
Sydney put a hand on his and tried to ignore the sensation that touching his skin gave her. "There have been a lot of changes in the last one hundred years, Vaughn. Let's take it one step at a time."  
  
He seemed to calm even more, and Sydney took the bag into the bathroom and set it on the counter beside the sink. Hearing him walk in behind her, she said, "There's soap and shampoo in here if you want to take a shower--"  
  
"A 'shower'?" he asked curiously, and Sydney nodded when she realized he might not know what that was.  
  
She gestured over her shoulder to the tub and pulled back the curtain. He stepped behind her as she pointed out the showerhead and the faucet and explained, "You just turn this handle like this, pull this knob and water comes out up there for you to wash off in. It's what we do to get clean."  
  
"But this is a bath," he pointed out.  
  
"I know," she nodded. "People take baths now just to relax."  
  
"Oh," he commented with his eyebrows crossed in confusion. "Do you?"  
  
Sydney's face showed surprise at his personal question he'd asked merely out of curiosity, and watched as he blushed in embarrassment.  
  
His eyes darted to the floor. "I'm sorry. That was inappropriate."  
  
"That's okay," she assured him. "Don't feel ashamed to ask me anything. I understand." There was a moment of awkwardness until Sydney said, "Anyway, if you want to...clean up, I've got someone bringing up some clean clothes for you. They should be here any minute. And until they come, there's a robe on the back of the door."  
  
Leaving the room at his nod, she closed the door behind her and left him alone to freshen up and hopefully give him some time to let it all sink in. Fortunately, she'd been able to coerce the manager of the hotel to purchase some men's clothes for her and he'd offered to do it and bring them up to her room within the hour. There were definitely benefits to being a woman who was trained at using her flirting skills to get what she needed. She'd guessed at Vaughn's size, and used the excuse that her 'boyfriend' lost his luggage on their flight over. It gave her a strange feeling when she realized how naturally the explanation came to her lips, when she could have just as easily said that he was her brother or a good friend. But it didn't matter. Whatever works, right?  
  
There was a knock at the door just as Sydney heard the water shut off, and after thankfully getting his clothes from the ever-polite hotel manager and shutting the room door, Sydney knocked on the bathroom door, announced that she had the clothes, and heard Vaughn tell her to wait "just a moment." He popped his towel-dried head out of the door; his body wrapped securely in the robe, and held out his hands for the clothes.  
  
Sydney stifled a laugh as he quickly closed the door again, and then, turning from the door, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror above the fireplace.  
  
She was smiling—something that wasn't unusual when she was with Will or Francie, but when she was alone, she'd had a hard time finding anything since Danny's death to be happy about. And the woman currently smiling back at her was the happy person she hadn't seen in months.  
  
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Edited to correct French, as pointed out by ireela. Thank you! 


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks so much for your reviews so far! I really appreciate them!  
  
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Chapter 3:  
  
Sydney was just picking up her cell phone to call and check in with SD-6 and find out what she was to do with Vaughn when Vaughn opened the bathroom door again. "Excuse me?" he said to get her attention.  
  
She looked up from her seat on the edge of the bed, dropped her phone, and quickly stood up to answer, "Yes? Do you need something?"  
  
"I have..." he started, then tried again, "I do not know..." He held up the can of shaving cream. "How does one use this?"  
  
Silently chuckling, she went toward him, led him back into the bathroom, and took the can to show him. "You just...shake it, push this button, and then spread the foam around the area you want to shave." Seeing his confused look, she sprayed some on her hand to demonstrate. "See?" Having no place to put the glob of foam on her hand, she automatically reached for his face and spread it on his chin, trying to ignore the fast beating of her heart as she reached his dimple, and pretend that the intimate way she was touching his face was a normal occurrence for her.  
  
Quickly pulling her hand away when their eyes met, she then turned and rinsed it off and picked up the razor to show him the next step. "This is a razor, and it shouldn't cut you, as long as you hold it like this, and shave in this direction," she showed him by holding it a few inches away from her arm. "Got it?"  
  
He held out his hand for the razor and nodded, "Yes. Thank you."  
  
Turning with a friendly smile to ward off the strange feelings she still had, she walked back toward the bedroom when she heard him ask, "What is your name?" over her shoulder.  
  
She spun around on her heel. "Sydney Bristow," she answered and smiled again as he nodded his thanks.  
  
Her cell phone suddenly rang from the bedroom and she left him alone to shave in order to answer it. She pushed the button, spoke a polite hello, and then practically bit her tongue when she heard Sloane say her name in her ear.  
  
She gritted her teeth as she replied, "Yes?"  
  
"Marshall told me about your little mishap," his voice lilted. "I just wanted to check in and make sure everything is in order for the dead drop."  
  
"Yes, I'm on schedule. What did you want me to do with Vaughn until next Monday?"  
  
Sloane was silent for a moment and then she heard him say, "I think you'll do a fine job of keeping him safe, Sydney. I trust your capabilities."  
  
"Trusting me has nothing to do with this!" she argued in a harsh whisper, keeping turned away from the bathroom. "We're talking about me babysitting a grown man for over a week! Aren't my services as an agent needed elsewhere?"  
  
"We have nothing of importance in the immediate future," he said and she tried not to vomit at his lackluster use of the pun. "In fact, when you returned home, I was going to suggest you taking some time off anyway. You've been working too hard lately."  
  
Again Sydney had the urge to retch. "I'm just doing my job," she calmly argued.  
  
She could practically hear Sloane's evil grin. "Just keep an eye on Vaughn until it's time for him to go back next Monday. Consider it the simplest assignment you've ever had."  
  
Finding that she didn't have an argument left, she sighed, "Yes, sir. Well, I guess I'll be in touch." She tried to keep her jaw from clenching.  
  
"Thank you, Sydney. And try to get some rest, okay, dear?"  
  
Once again biting her tongue, she hung up, and practically jumped when she turned finding a clean-shaven Vaughn standing right behind her.  
  
"Were you..." he stopped and glanced down at the tiny phone in her hand. "Were you *talking* to someone?"  
  
"Yes. It was just my boss."  
  
He pointed to the phone. "On that?"  
  
Realizing he was curious about her cell phone and not her conversation, she held it up and nodded. "Uh-huh, it's a phone."  
  
"A telephone," he corrects. "Yes, I've seen one, only it was much bigger and connected with wires." She nodded in understanding, and he asked, "How does this one work?"  
  
"It...sends and receives signals from special towers that have been built all over the world."  
  
He took the phone from her and held it while he studied it. "That's amazing."  
  
"You should see satellite phones," she teased and again his curiosity was peaked.  
  
He met her eyes. "Satellite?"  
  
She smiled. "They're like ships floating in outer space, and they work kind of the same way, sending signals. They work better in remote places than these. Places too far from the towers."  
  
"Man has achieved reaching beyond the earth?"  
  
"Mm-hmm. They've even walked on the moon."  
  
He nodded with an amazed look, and then turned his attention back to the object in his hand. "And this material?" he tapped the side of the phone.  
  
"Also plastic," she grinned and watched as he nodded knowingly.  
  
"Ah, yes," he grinned. "Obviously the modern world's wood."  
  
They both laughed and Sydney leaned back on the edge of the bed again. "So, are you ready to hear what happened to get you here?"  
  
"Yes, please."  
  
Gesturing to one of the chairs, he waited until she was seated before taking the opposite chair facing her to listen to what she had to say. "What do you know about Rambaldi?" she asked first, just so she would know where to begin.  
  
He told her what she already knew, that he was a fifteenth-century inventor, that had futuristic devices and artifacts stored all over the world. Vaughn even proudly admitted to owning the few that he'd found himself.  
  
Sydney nodded, but knew that the artifacts he owned would be found in their own time, so asking him if she could have them would be pointless. And how would she accomplish that anyway?  
  
She then spent the next half an hour explaining about the agency she worked for that needed the journal in order to assemble all of the pieces once they had them all, and what she knew about the theory of time travel that she'd learned in the brief half-hour-long op tech with Marshall before the mission.  
  
Vaughn was more inquisitive about the type of person her boss was—mainly, if he was a man that could be trusted in possession of the power of Rambaldi's device, whatever it turned out to be.  
  
"No, actually he isn't," she admitted, looking down at her hands in her lap. Fortunately, Sydney had scanned the room for bugs early that morning, so she was able to speak freely.  
  
He cocked his head to the side. "And yet, you were willing to risk your life by going back in time in order to retrieve the book?"  
  
"It's hard to explain," she tried, but the demanding look in his eyes was enough to make her try. "I work for him, but I'm actually working for another agency, trying to destroy him."  
  
"Oh...like the 'Trojan Horse'," he nodded in understanding. "Essentially destroying the enemy from the inside."  
  
"Exactly," she smirked, enjoying the way he interpreted things in his own way.  
  
"How did you get into this business?"  
  
Sydney sighed, "That's a long story too--"  
  
"Was it revenge?" he interrupted.  
  
She narrowed her eyes curiously. "How did you know?"  
  
"The way you were talking to him on the phone earlier—it was obvious that you despise him."  
  
She nodded resolutely, staring down at her lap. "He killed the man I loved," the words fell from her lips involuntarily.  
  
"Your...husband?"  
  
"No," she looked up and back down again. "My fiancé."  
  
He reached his hand across the distance between them, and rested it on top of hers in comfort. "I'm terribly sorry."  
  
Feeling the tingle his touch gave her, and hearing the sincerity of his words, she met his eyes. "Thank you," she whispered.  
  
There was a knock at the door just then, and Sydney rose from her chair, noting that Vaughn politely did too. Thinking that it would have been a member of the hotel staff, she was surprised to find that the hallway was empty, save a folded note on the floor.  
  
Picking it up and reading it, she knew who it was from. 'Hotel lobby, 20 minutes.'  
  
Weiss.  
  
She turned back to Vaughn who was standing halfway between the bed and the door, "Um...I have to go meet someone."  
  
"That man you were with last night, right?"  
  
She was beginning to understand just how observant he was. "Yes, actually."  
  
"Is he one of the good or the bad?"  
  
"Good," she smirked, remembering that Weiss was Vaughn's descendant. She wondered briefly how he would react if he knew that he'd seen his future progeny, and then pushed the thought aside and returned to the original subject. "Will you be alright by yourself for about an hour?"  
  
"Of course," he nodded, courteously walking her to the door.  
  
"Okay. I'll be back in a little while," she stepped out into the hall.  
  
"Miss Bristow?" he said, and Sydney turned back around, keeping her hand on the knob to listen. "Thank you...for telling me everything."  
  
Her face beamed naturally. "You're welcome."  
  
Closing the door behind her, Sydney walked down the hall not really noticing that the smile was still there until she saw her reflection again in the decorative mirror around the elevator. What was wrong with her? She simply brushed it off as finally getting used to her life since Danny's death, in order to convince herself it wasn't the man back in her hotel room.  
  
Once downstairs and in the lobby, she noticed that Weiss was not yet positioned in the room, so she took a well-chosen seat in a corner far away from any surveillance cameras and waited, pretending to read a magazine. Ten minutes later, Weiss sat down behind her and whispered, "We have a problem."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"There's a blank page in the journal. We need it."  
  
Sydney sighed and thought, 'Is it ever going to be easy?' "Is there a duplicate for a switch?" she asked instead.  
  
She saw him nod slightly out of the corner of her eye. "It'll be here by tonight."  
  
"That won't work," she panicked. "I've got to dead drop the book for Sloane in less than an hour."  
  
"Great," he sighed. "What are we gonna do?"  
  
Sydney thought for a moment, and answered, "My father might be able to help. I'll call him when I get back to the room."  
  
"Okay. Good luck," he whispered, and Sydney waited another ten minutes after he walked away to slowly walk back toward the elevator.  
  
She thought about the long week ahead. How was she supposed to entertain a nineteenth-century Frenchman in twenty-first century Paris? It seemed ridiculous, considering there was probably more she could learn from *him* than vice versa. She smirked when she realized she might've answered her own question, and decided that a walk around town couldn't hurt the space- time continuum, as long as she kept him from getting hit by a bus or something.  
  
But his clothes were definitely out of date, and the first thing she'd have to do was take him shopping so he'd have more than just the one set that the hotel manager had bought for her.  
  
The elevator doors opened with a ding, and instead of stepping in, she turned to go in search of the manager to ask where he'd purchased the clothes so that she could get him some more. She also remembered that the original clothes he had been wearing would need to be washed and decided that she'd better make use of the hotel's laundry service for his clothes as well as hers, since she'd only packed for two days and not a week.  
  
She found the manager and discovered that the shop was just down the street a bit, and then started making a plan as she returned to the elevator and on to her room. Checking her watch, she realized it was nearly time for the dead drop, so as soon as that was out of the way, she could come back to the room and take Vaughn shopping and then maybe for a walk around town so they could tell each other what they knew about the landmarks, both old and new.  
  
Stepping out of the elevator when she reached her floor, Sydney smiled with the image of shopping and sightseeing with Vaughn in her head. She might actually enjoy that.  
  
She unlocked the door to her room, still wearing her grin, "Vaughn? I just had an idea. How about we get out--" she stopped abruptly when she realized that she didn't see him in the bedroom and he wasn't answering from the bathroom. "Vaughn?" She walked into the bathroom and found that it too was empty. "Oh my god," she said aloud, feeling the panic gripping her chest.  
  
Grabbing her CIA phone, she quickly dialed Weiss. "Weiss, I don't know what to do. I need your help. Vaughn's missing."  
  
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Hee! I love cliffhangers! 


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thanks again for the reviews! Here's another chapter!  
  
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Chapter 4:  
  
"WHAT??" was Weiss's first response to the news that his great-great- grandfather was lost in the city somewhere, knowing that every second he wasn't being watched was putting him AND Weiss's existence in danger. "Well he's obviously not dead yet, because then *I* wouldn't be here," he said dryly.  
  
Sydney rushed out into the hall while he was talking and started giving him orders, "Since we can't be seen together, I'll search the hotel, and find out if they can see him on any of the security cameras. You check around the city."  
  
He agreed and insisted, "Call me if you find him."  
  
"You too."  
  
Hanging up the phone just as the elevator arrived, Sydney stepped in and closed her eyes for a moment, praying that they'd be able to find him before something happened to him. 'Oh god', she thought. 'What if he was kidnapped?'  
  
She forced the thought from her mind to think positively and determined that she or Weiss would be successful in finding in. Whatever she did, she couldn't let SD-6 know that he was missing. What would be her excuse? She couldn't very well tell them that she was out meeting with someone—they would get suspicious and her double agent status would be compromised. It was a fact that if they didn't find them on their own, she was screwed.  
  
She practically ran to the manager's office, thankful for once that she already had a rapport with the man from earlier that morning. She explained in short order that her boyfriend was missing and that he had a mild form of amnesia, and it was imperative that she find him. Add to that a little flirtatious begging, and the guy was putty in her hands.  
  
They spent the next ten minutes watching all of the camera feeds in the security room, but there was no sign of him, and all the while, Sydney kept checking her watch, afraid she was going to miss her scheduled dead drop.  
  
There was only fifteen minutes to spare when she decided that she'd better check again with Weiss. Stepping out into the fresh air outside, she called him back. "Any luck?" she asked when he answered his cell.  
  
"No. He's not anywhere."  
  
"Where are you?"  
  
"I'm about a block away on the same side of the street as your hotel, checking all of the stores. Geez, I never knew there were so many pastry shops here."  
  
"You're not EATING at a time like this, are you?"  
  
"No, but I definitely know where I'm going after we find him. This store has got the best-looking éclairs I've ever seen."  
  
Sydney tried to keep from laughing considering the dire situation they were in. "Weiss!" she scolded instead as she walked across the street. "Keep looking, alright? I'll check across the st--" She stopped when she saw a man that looked a lot like Vaughn standing next to a flower stand nearby. "I'll call you right back," she said, shutting her phone off.  
  
"Vaughn?" she questioned as she approached the man, and he immediately turned.  
  
The look on Vaughn's face was one of indifference. He had no idea what she and Weiss had been through looking for him, and Sydney felt her chest relax as she exhaled a breath of relief. "Miss Bristow," he said conversationally. "Look at how beautiful these are," he said, casually pointing to a bouquet in his hand. "And it's too cold for roses to be in bloom. They're incredible, aren't they?"  
  
Sydney was so upset at losing him that she wanted to reprimand him, but found herself almost laughing instead. Without a word, she took the flowers from him, put them back in their spot, and pulled him away, walking back toward their hotel. "Where have you been? And why did you leave the room?"  
  
He tilted his head back and looked around. "I had to see the city. It's changed so much—"  
  
She interjected, "I was planning on taking you out so you could see everything, after I got done with business."  
  
"You were?" he tilted his head as he looked over at her.  
  
She nodded as she stopped to face him to get her message across, "It's very dangerous for you to be alone out here. Just please don't go anywhere without me anymore, okay?"  
  
He smiled apologetically. "I promise."  
  
As they continued to walk back to the hotel, she dialed Weiss a third time and gave him her simple message, "I found him. He's okay," before hanging up again. She told Vaughn that she needed to hurry to drop off the journal for it to go back to her boss, and as soon as that was done, she'd be free to take him anywhere he'd want to go.  
  
Vaughn smiled with the prospect, and willingly walked with her back to the room.  
  
As soon as they were inside, she remembered to call her dad and quickly passed on the message to him about the blank page that needed to be switched. "I'll see what I can do," he told her and Sydney added her thanks. But before saying goodbye, Jack added, "Oh, Sydney. Sloane told me what's going on. Are you all right? I could convince him to send Dixon to take your place, if you want."  
  
She looked to Vaughn who had picked up the remote control for the TV, and was reading the words next to the buttons with curiosity. She *could* go home to LA to her double agent job, the stress, the long workdays, and go back to always being on call; or she could just accept this 'assignment' graciously and enjoy it. It was the latter choice that won out. "No, Dad, I'm alright. We're getting along okay, and I think Sloane was right about me needing a break."  
  
Jack was hesitant to respond but he agreed. "Okay. Be safe."  
  
"You too."  
  
She hung up the phone, laid it on top of the dresser, and picked up the journal that was now conveniently stored in a plain, navy blue suitcase. "Okay, Vaughn. I'll be back in a half an hour. Stay in this room, okay?" she reiterated.  
  
He looked up and smiled. "Understood." She turned with a matching happy face and started to walk out when she heard him say, "Be careful."  
  
Turning back, feeling a little strange about his concern for her, she nodded. "I will."  
  
The dead drop consisted of sitting on a bench, with the suitcase beside her on the ground, waiting until a man in a red jacket (an SD-6 agent) would sit down beside her, reading a paper. After five minutes, Sydney would get up and leave, and the other agent would wait another five minutes and walk away with it. Piece of cake.  
  
She was back in half an hour as promised, and Vaughn stood up from the bed, turning off the TV like a pro when she came in. "Ready to go?" she asked cheerfully, although she probably wouldn't have admitted how excited she was about having a day of shopping and sightseeing without any work responsibilities for a change.  
  
Vaughn nodded with a smile. "Where are we going to go first?"  
  
"Shopping," she answered simply. "We both need clothes."  
  
He seemed skeptical at first, but two hours later, Sydney and Vaughn had managed to buy enough clothes to last them the week and beyond. She knew it was silly buying him so much when he was going to be going back in time to a place where the clothes wouldn't be practical, and at one point, she realized Sloane wouldn't agree to let the agency pay for any more and she started using her own personal credit card for the excess.  
  
But she didn't care about the expense when she saw him in the green sweater that brought out his eyes, or the black leather jacket that made him look sexy. Heck, she'd even bought him a suit when he tried it on for the fun of it and realized how great he looked in it. As she paid for the suit, she vowed to make use of it at least once before he had to go back. Maybe they could have dinner at a nice restaurant or something.  
  
Of course, that line of thinking gave her the need of a nice dress and shoes, so those too were also added to her fast-rising credit card balance.  
  
They stopped in the middle of it all and had a late lunch at local outdoor café and Vaughn surprised her by ordering for both of them. She stared at Vaughn after the waiter left, and when he noticed, he said, "I hope that was alright with you."  
  
"Yes, it was fine," she assured him. "I guess I'm just used to being independent."  
  
"It's no longer customary for the man to order for everyone?"  
  
She shook her head. "No, not really."  
  
"I didn't mean to be rude."  
  
"No, it's fine," she laughed, placing her hand on his, and when he clasped the tips of her fingers in his and held them, her breath caught in her throat.  
  
They stared at each other for a moment as Sydney's heart pounded in her chest, until she gently slipped her fingers from his and looked away.  
  
She tried to break the uncomfortable silence and said the first thing that came to her mind. "You know what? I just remembered I have to check in with Weiss. Um...I'll be right back."  
  
Without waiting for his answer, she stood and dug out her cell phone from her pocket, walking away a bit. There was no reason to check in. In fact, Weiss was probably on his way home by now, unless he decided to stay to help her keep tabs on Vaughn. She figured it might be best to know in case she did need his help again, so she called him anyway and asked how long he would be staying in Paris.  
  
"I have to leave tomorrow," he answered. "Devlin says he has a new assignment for me to start maybe next week." He sighed. "I'm really bummed too, 'cause I was kinda hoping I could get to meet my great-great- grandfather while he was awake."  
  
She could hear the slight disappointment in his voice, so she kept from saying something that would make it worse. "Well, it's probably for the best, you know. You'd hate to screw up your own existence," she teased.  
  
"What's he like?" he asked instead of arguing the point.  
  
"He's..." Sydney looked back to where Vaughn was busy straightening the napkins and silverware on the table, and even picking through the flower arrangement in the center. "He's really nice," she answered. "He's smart. And quite a gentleman." She tried to ignore the way her face warmed saying those words about him.  
  
Weiss sighed again. "Well...tell him I said hi at least."  
  
"I will," she laughed. "It was nice to work with you, Weiss. I hope to see you again sometime."  
  
"Yeah, me too. It was fun. Maybe next time I could show you a little more of my yo-yo genius."  
  
Sydney laughed. He'd had a yo-yo with him when they met at the Tower and he quickly showed her a couple of tricks before their first jump to ease the nervousness they'd both felt. It was then that he told her the real reason he brought it, in order to keep him occupied while she was busy getting the journal from Vaughn's house.  
  
Presently, Sydney kept the smile on her face and declared honestly, "I'd like that." And then they said their goodbyes and she put her phone away again.  
  
Forcing the smile to stay on her once-again nervous face, she went back to her seat beside Vaughn and sat down, saying, "Weiss said to say hello to you."  
  
"Oh. Well, next time you talk to him, say hello for me too."  
  
She nodded and averted her eyes to the flowers in the middle of the table and noticed something. "Weren't there snapdragons in there earlier?"  
  
"Yes, I took them out. They didn't match the rest of the arrangement."  
  
She cocked her head curiously. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Every flower has a meaning." He pointed to each flower in the arrangement. "Red roses mean 'passionate love', Stargazer lilies are 'ambition', white mums are 'truth', and alstroemeria means 'to aspire'. Snapdragons did not fit because they are 'presumptuous'." He sat back in his chair when he was through and Sydney just stared at him in amazement.  
  
"Do all men in your time know the meanings to all of the flowers?"  
  
"Some," he admitted. "But I had an advantage because my mother acquired a love for gardening after my father's death."  
  
"Oh," she repeated speechlessly, and the two of them fell silent again as their food was set in front of them.  
  
They wordlessly ate for a few minutes before Vaughn set down his fork and broke the silence. "I feel...I owe you an apology for earlier," he told her, and she looked up and tried to swallow her nerves. "I was wrong to hold your hand. I am...I have a fiancé...in my time."  
  
Sydney tried to ignore the way her heart dropped with that announcement, although rationally she knew there was no chance for them anyway, considering there was a hundred years difference in their ages. "That's okay," she managed to choke out over the lump in her throat. Changing the subject, she asked, "What's her name?"  
  
"Elizabeth," he answered simply.  
  
'Elizabeth Vaughn', she thought jealously as she chewed another bite of food. 'Weiss's great-great-grandmother.'  
  
His voice interrupted her thoughts. "Did you ever marry after your fiancé was killed?"  
  
"No," she shook her head. "It's only been six months."  
  
He nodded and looked almost ashamed for asking. "You're still mourning," he deduced.  
  
She nodded. "You could say that." Of course, with the jealous feelings toward the mysterious Elizabeth running through her veins at that moment, it didn't FEEL like she was mourning. She forced the thoughts from her mind and asked him about his favorite places in Paris, trying to formulate a plan for the rest of the week, and they spent the next hour talking and eating and pointing out the sights around them.  
  
After they were done, they went back to shopping, and stayed away from the subjects of fiancés and deaths, and instead enjoyed themselves again. By five o'clock that afternoon, they were both tired, and Sydney suggested that they go back to the hotel.  
  
He started to protest, "But we haven't seen--"  
  
Sydney interrupted him, "Vaughn, you're going to be here for another eight days. We'll have plenty of time to see whatever you want to see before you have to go back, okay?"  
  
Understanding and agreeing with her, he smiled and they made their way back up to the room again.  
  
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	5. Chapter 5

A/N: By the way, this story is already finished, and there are 20 chapters, and an epilogue, so don't be surprised if I post two or more chapters in a day until it's done.  
  
And if anyone sees any foreign language mistakes, please let me know and I will fix them, now that I've figured out how to do that! Thanks! And thanks for reading!  
  
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Chapter 5:  
  
Vaughn watched as Sydney fell on the bed in exhaustion the minute they entered the room, after dropping the many bags on the floor, and emptying her pockets onto the dresser. He gingerly sat on the edge on the bed on the other side from her. "What will we have for dinner?" he asked, mainly to know what to prepare for.  
  
"Let's just eat here," she mumbled with her eyes closed, and he thought she was falling asleep.  
  
Sure enough, her breaths were deep and even a couple of minutes later, and he stood back and stared at her. For the first time since he woke up in this new world earlier that morning, he had a chance to truly look at her without her running or turning away in embarrassment or nervousness, and he was going to take advantage of it.  
  
He had thought she was attractive, becoming, and beguiling when she was awake, but he was delighted to notice how stunning she was even in her sleep. From her straight brown hair, to her perfect, straight eyebrows, and high cheekbones, to her full lips, he felt like she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Surely compared to the women he'd had to choose a bride from. Elizabeth had been a wise choice, and she wasn't unbecoming, but something about this Sydney Bristow intrigued him. Even with her childlike freckles on her face, her skin was perfect, and he longed to reach out and stroke her cheek like she had done to him that morning, when she was teaching him how to shave.  
  
He unconsciously reached up and touched his chin where her fingers had lingered for that brief moment, remembering how it had affected him, and how it had made his skin burn. Elizabeth had never had that effect on him, but then again, she usually only touched his face when she was asking for favors, he realized cynically. Theirs was never a strong relationship, and part of him hated being betrothed to her.  
  
His thoughts of his fiancé were forced back on Sydney when she suddenly turned on her side and pulled her feet up slightly. Noticing with amusement that she still had her shoes on, he walked around the bed and quietly slipped them off her feet to make her more comfortable, and then as she was curling her feet up even more, her cell phone rang. He dropped the shoes on the floor and practically leaped for the phone, and stepped into the bathroom when it suddenly stopped ringing.  
  
Holding it up to his ear like he'd watched Sydney do, he asked, "Is someone there?"  
  
"Who is this?" a female voice demanded.  
  
"I'm Michel Vaughn. And you are?"  
  
"Where's Sydney?"  
  
He stood up straight. "Madam, it is rude to ask a question before answering one that has been asked of you."  
  
She ignored his comment and asked again, "Is this Sydney Bristow's phone?"  
  
"Yes, it is, but she's asleep at the moment. Again, may I ask who this is?"  
  
"I am Sydney's best friend," she finally answered. "Who the hell are you?"  
  
He was taken aback. "That's quite rude. I refuse to be treated like that. Why don't you just talk to her later?"  
  
"Listen, buddy. I want to talk to Sydney Bristow RIGHT NOW, so you'd better get her on the phone!"  
  
"It seems you need a lesson in etiquette, miss--"  
  
Sydney woke up hearing Vaughn arguing with someone in the bathroom, and jumped up to investigate. Seeing her phone in his hand, she appeared at his side and quickly took it from him, holding it against her chest for a moment. "Vaughn, it's okay. I-I got it." He seemed relieved or maybe embarrassed and stayed where he was as she walked back into the bedroom, putting the phone to her ear, hearing Francie still arguing her point.  
  
"Francie?"  
  
Her best friend's voice was calmed immediately. "Hey Syd, who the hell was that guy? And is he French?"  
  
"He's...he's just a friend," she tried, knowing Francie wouldn't be so easily swayed, considering that the 'friend' had answered her personal cell phone.  
  
"A friend???" Francie's voice turned curious. "I thought you were working."  
  
"We are...working together," she fibbed.  
  
Francie snorted. "Well, that must be tough. He seemed really obnoxious--"  
  
"No, no, he's not. He's just a little..." she took a glance back at Vaughn who was now leaning up against the doorjamb and listening intently. "Old fashioned," Sydney finished with a slight smile, and Vaughn smiled too. "He's actually very sweet," she blurted before stopping herself and then turned away with a blush.  
  
"Oh, reeeally..." Francie sang in her ear and Sydney's blush deepened.  
  
Sydney shook her head. "Fran, I can't talk about it right now, but I promise I'll tell you everything when I get home, okay?"  
  
"Okay," her friend conceded. "But you'd better give me all the juicy details as soon as you walk in the front door tomorrow. I want to hear all about this guy, especially if he's nicer than he sounds."  
  
"He is. But um," Sydney remembered, "actually, I won't be coming home for another week."  
  
She could hear Francie's frustration. "A week? Geez, Syd, is your boss ever gonna let up?"  
  
"Well, really, this a rather easy assignment. In fact, Sloane wants Vaughn to take me sightseeing while we're here to get me acquainted with the city. He's...an important client," she lied again.  
  
"Sightseeing? In Boston? Aren't you there like...all the time?"  
  
"No, we're not in Boston... We're..." she started to try to come up with another lie to add to ever-growing pile, but decided that most of the truth couldn't hurt. "Don't freak out, okay, but I'm in...Paris," she almost whispered, wondering what the other woman's reaction was going to be.  
  
She could hear Francie's shocked intake of breath. "You mean to tell me that you're in the most romantic city in the world, AND you're getting PAID to go sightseeing with your 'very sweet', mystery Frenchman?" When Sydney didn't answer right away, Francie gasped, and said, "Sydney, how did you manage that?? You have GOT to tell me what's going on, girl!"  
  
"I wish I could, Fran, but it's really complicated, and I've got to... We have a dinner meeting to get to," she lied just to get off of the phone. "I'll talk to you later, okay? Bye!" she hung up before Francie could protest and turned back to Vaughn, taking a deep breath.  
  
He immediately gestured to the phone and explained, "I didn't want it to wake you."  
  
She nodded in understanding and smiled slightly. "That's okay, but I think it might be better if you don't answer my phone anymore."  
  
"I didn't mean to," he shook his head. "It came on by itself."  
  
"You must've accidentally hit the button, but that's okay. Francie's my best friend, and she just gets a little nosy and defensive sometimes. I'm usually the only one who answers it."  
  
"She was very impolite."  
  
Sydney laughed; just imagining what Francie might've assumed when Vaughn answered. "Well, she won't be when she meets you, I promise," she smiled, and then her face fell when she realized what she'd said. She shook her head. "I-I don't why I just said that. You won't ever get to meet her...I'm sorry."  
  
"It's understandable," he consoled her. "But...if she is your best friend, I'm sure she's very amiable."  
  
Sydney smiled again and looked down at her bare feet and changed the subject. "Did you take off my shoes?"  
  
He nodded. "Yes. You looked uncomfortable."  
  
She met his eyes with shock. "Well, you didn't need to do that, but thank you." As the silence started to hang thick in the air, Sydney looked over at the room's telephone. "Are you hungry? We could order something for dinner."  
  
"And they'll bring it here?"  
  
"Mm-hmm," she nodded and then turned to find the hotel's menu stashed in the bedside drawer. She held it out to him. "You want to do the honors of picking something out for us to eat again?"  
  
He smiled and took the menu and began reading their choices.  
  
Sydney pointed to the phone. "When you've decided what you want, just pick up the phone," she picked up the handle to demonstrate, "push the zero button one time, and tell the person who answers that you'd like to order room service. And then tell them your order, okay?"  
  
"Are you sure you don't want to order for yourself this time?"  
  
She grinned as she put the receiver back on its cradle. "No, it's okay. I trust you." She turned toward the bathroom, glancing at the tub. "I think I'm going to take a bath until the food gets here, okay?"  
  
"To relax?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, remembering their first conversation that morning.  
  
"Yeah," she chuckled. "It's been a long day."  
  
Grabbing the last set of clean clothes from her suitcase, she smiled one more time before retreating into the bathroom. And as she was closing the door, she heard him talking on the phone, "Bon soir. J'aimerais commander le service de chambre, s'il vous plaît..."  
  
Sydney sank down in the tub a few minutes later and let herself relax for probably the first time since joining the CIA to take down Sloane and the Alliance. She didn't like to admit it, but Sloane was right about her needing a break. She would've taken a break long before this, but her determination to destroy him as quickly as possible was stronger than her need for a vacation. And the apprehension of going on a vacation alone was another major reason she didn't ask for time off.  
  
Sure, Francie or Will would've gone with her somewhere, but with the stress of trying to keep her best friends in the dark about the truth of her life was something she didn't really want to have to worry about on vacation. Which made this arrangement pretty perfect. Vaughn knew all of her truths, he was a nice guy who was fun to spend time with, and she had been ordered to keep him company for over a week.  
  
She pinched herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming and then smiled as she rested her head back against the edge of the tub and closed her eyes.  
  
Vaughn tried to find something to occupy his time while he was alone, turning on the TV first, trying all of the channels, pausing on each one, trying to absorb as much of this shocking new world as he could. When he got bored with that, he turned it off and walked toward the windows, watching the headlights from the cars go by, thankful that Sydney had explained what they were and how they worked earlier that day.  
  
Thinking ahead to when the food would arrive, Vaughn started arranging the table, pulling it from the corner of the room to sit next to the fireplace, and putting the chairs across from one another. It seemed like such a pitiful arrangement, devoid of anything on the table. He turned and noticed what looked like plastic 'wood' in the fireplace, to which he thought wryly, 'is nothing real anymore?', and soon discovered a switch above the mantel. Turning the knob to 'on', the fire roared to life, and then he turned it again until the fire was down to a romantic glow.  
  
It was then that there was a knock at the door, announcing the food's arrival, and Vaughn answered and let the waiter roll the cart inside. As he entered, Vaughn mentioned in friendly conversation that the table and two chairs were a little boring for dinner without anything on it, and the waiter offered to get a tablecloth for him. Vaughn's eyes lit up and offered his thanks, and then noticing a decorative arrangement of flowers on the cart beside their covered plates, he asked to borrow those too. Soon, the two men were working together to think of one idea after another that would help liven up the room.  
  
Vaughn kept listening out for Sydney while they were setting up, but all was quiet behind the bathroom door, and he was thankful that the surprise he was working on wouldn't be spoiled.  
  
Once he was ready, and his new friend, Pierre, had left, Vaughn quietly knocked on the bathroom door. "Miss Bristow?" he leaned his ear close to the door to listen for her answer, but found that there wasn't one.  
  
Sydney didn't realize she had fallen asleep until she heard Vaughn's worried voice through the door, "Miss Bristow, are you alright? Do you need help?"  
  
She sat up quickly as the now-cold water sloshed around her, and said, "I'm okay. I...I guess I fell asleep." She swallowed when she realized how dry her throat was, and told him, "I'll be out in just a minute."  
  
Stepping out of the tub and wrapping a towel around herself, she dried off and quickly dressed in the pajama pants and tank top she'd chosen, ran a comb through her damp hair, and then took one more look in the mirror before stepping out to face Vaughn again.  
  
She opened the door, saying, "I am so sorry I--" and the words stopped in her throat when she saw the table, now complete with a tablecloth, a floral centerpiece with a candle in the center, two steaming plates of food, and two glasses of wine, all lighted by the glow of the fireplace beside it. She was speechless.  
  
"...You..." She glanced up at him and back at the table. "How did you...? Wh- why...?" she looked back for an answer, even though she never asked a full question.  
  
He was grinning, and for a brief second, Sydney was sure he could stare at that grin for the rest of her life. "I thought you deserved a pleasant dinner, especially after being so helpful to me today." Her eyes revealed only surprise and delight, but after a moment, she began looking anywhere but at him.  
  
In truth, she was fighting tears. She hadn't had that kind of male attention in months, if ever. Danny had been sweet, but he was usually too busy or tired to plan ahead for things like this. Except on their annual anniversaries, when he took her to her favorite restaurant for a candlelight dinner, and let her order whatever she wanted on the menu.  
  
But this... Sydney's eyes were still wandering from the decorated table to look around the room, and they finally landed on the clothes she was currently wearing, down to her bare feet, also remembering that her hair was still damp and unruly. "I'm not prepared for something this nice. I'm not dressed--"  
  
He stopped her by holding out his hand to her and saying, "You look beautiful."  
  
Sydney blushed and politely answered with a "thank you" as she looked to his upturned hand between them, and slowly lifted her hand to gingerly place it in his grasp. With another smile, he led her to the table, and then pulled out her chair for her to sit down.  
  
She was still speechless as he took his seat opposite her. "Are you alright?" he asked her.  
  
"Yes," she nodded. "I guess I'm just in shock."  
  
"Hasn't anyone ever surprised you before?"  
  
She conceded with a slight nod, and then explained, "But not like this." She couldn't seem to keep her eyes off of him now as he smiled again.  
  
"Well, you should be treated like this everyday," he surprised even himself by saying. "You deserve it."  
  
## ## ## 


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: More fluff! Enjoy!  
  
## ## ##  
  
Chapter 6:  
  
Sydney picked up her glass of wine and tried to keep from grinning, but she couldn't help herself. There she was, sitting in her pajamas, with her hair undone, no makeup on, and with a handsome man across a table in a romantic setting, smiling back at her. She was sure she was in heaven, and even though she knew it was only temporary, it didn't seem to matter.  
  
They enjoyed the quiet peacefulness of the atmosphere as they ate, but after a while, Sydney's bare feet started to get cold, despite the fact that she was sitting next to the fire. She got up out of her chair to walk to her suitcase behind her, but stopped when Vaughn stood up with her and asked, "Where are you going?"  
  
She pointed with her thumb over her shoulder. "I'm getting socks. My feet are cold." She narrowed her eyes curiously. "Why are you getting up?"  
  
"It's customary to stand when a lady leaves the table," he said politely.  
  
"Oh," she slowly smiled. She could get used to this, especially in a world where most of the men she interacted with were either liars or killers or both.  
  
Vaughn waited while she retrieved some socks from her bag and together they sat back down. Sydney leaned over to slip the warm, white cotton on her feet, and commented, "This is really nice. I don't usually get to sit down to a candlelight dinner in my pajamas."  
  
He chuckled, letting the corner of his mouth curve up in a wry grin. "You seem really relaxed. The bath must've worked," he teased.  
  
She smiled in response as she picked up her fork again. "Yeah, it usually does. It takes my mind off of everything going on around me."  
  
"You mean your job?"  
  
Nodding, she answered, "Mostly. It's a lot to deal with."  
  
He watched as her face sobered as she turned her attention back to her plate. "It must be difficult to live like you do," he observed a few minutes later and Sydney set her fork down again, swallowing her bite before she answered.  
  
"It is."  
  
"Have you ever thought of leaving it?"  
  
She nodded again. "Every day." She wiped her mouth with the napkin from her lap and sat back in the chair. "But it's not that easy."  
  
"You want revenge," his surmised and she met his gaze.  
  
"Yes." She looked down at her hands in her lap and sighed. "At least it used to be my reason for staying. Now I think I just go to work every day because that's all I know how to do." She sat up again when she saw his eyes turn sympathetic and warm, making her body shiver unexpectedly. "Enough about me," she said with a wave of her hand to change the subject. "So...how long have you known Elizabeth?"  
  
"Since I was a child," he answered easily as he took his turn to sit back in his chair to talk. "Our parents were good friends before we were born."  
  
"Oh... That's nice," Sydney said, trying hard to ignore the jealousy she was feeling again.  
  
"It could be."  
  
She tilted her head. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Elizabeth and I..." he started and then reworded what he was trying to say. "Our parents want us to marry."  
  
"You mean...you're not happy with her?" Sydney asked, feeling her heart leap into her throat with hope.  
  
He didn't answer right away, and Sydney was sure he thought he'd spoken out of turn. "She'll be a good wife," he finally countered, instead of given Sydney the answer she was hoping for.  
  
A quiet tension built in the air between them as they neither ate nor spoke. And when Sydney's phone rang again, she was glad for once for the reprieve. She jumped up from her seat, as did Vaughn, of course, and she picked up her cell phone off of the dresser. "Hello?"  
  
"Syd, what's this about you being in Paris?"  
  
"Hey, Will," she smiled; glancing over at Vaughn to let him know it was not a work-related call. "I see you've been talking to Francie."  
  
"Yeah, well, she was still freaking out about an hour after she called you, when I stopped by your house earlier. So, who's this guy you're with?" Sydney could hear the jealousy in his voice; especially when she considered the kiss they'd shared a couple of weeks before that didn't work out like he'd wanted.  
  
"He's a client," she answered him. "He's just going to show me around town this week."  
  
There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Does he think that's all he's doing?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
As Sydney meandered into the bathroom, Vaughn sat back down in his chair, trying to eat to ignore the fact that he could still very clearly hear every word of her one-sided conversation. But he stopped eating when he heard her say, "He's *engaged*, Will. He's not looking to start a relationship with me, okay?"  
  
Vaughn dropped his head in shame when he realized she was right. What was he thinking, preparing this romantic dinner setting with there was no possibility of anything happening between them except a short-term friendship? Not only was there the matter of his engagement, but also the fact that he was from a different time, and after next Monday, he could and would never see her again. The fact of the matter was that Elizabeth was his future, NOT Sydney Bristow.  
  
He pinched the bridge of his nose, just as he heard Sydney say, "Love you too," to the mysterious Will, and he realized that the man on the phone might be her future too, unless by some miracle he was her brother.  
  
As she came back into the room, he stood up again and waited as she deposited her phone back in its place on the dresser, and then they both sat back down to finish the meal. Before picking up his fork again, he asked, "This 'Will'... Is he a relative of yours?"  
  
Sydney smiled as she answered, "No, he's a good friend."  
  
Vaughn felt his heart involuntarily sink and they quickly finished their food after that, making only polite conversation in the uncomfortable silence.  
  
Sydney yawned as they were emptying their wine glasses, and got up to prepare for bed, when it suddenly became clear to both of them that they would probably need to discuss sleeping arrangements.  
  
"Where did you sleep last night?" Vaughn asked when he realized he didn't know.  
  
"On the bed...with-with you," she answered quietly, and he was sure he saw her face turn pink just a moment before she turned away. But when she turned back, she was fully composed again. "I can sleep in a chair. I'm used to sleeping in airplane seats anyway--"  
  
"No," he protested. "That wouldn't be right. You take the bed. I'll sleep in the chair."  
  
"No, it's okay--"  
  
"I insist," he interrupted. "Please."  
  
Sydney couldn't begrudge him the privilege of being honorable, although she still felt bad about it. "Okay," she conceded with a sigh, and the two of them went about their separate business to get ready to sleep.  
  
She called for a member of the staff to come retrieve the dirty dishes while Vaughn stacked the dishes, the folded tablecloth, and the flowers and candle all back on the cart beside the door, and then put the table and chairs back in the corner.  
  
The dishes were picked up while Sydney was brushing her teeth, and then as she was folding down the bed, Vaughn brushed his. He turned off the bathroom light as he came out, and Sydney turned around to face him with the extra pillow in her hand. She offered it to him, saying, "Are you sure you--"  
  
"I'll be fine," he reassured her, taking the pillow from her.  
  
She watched as he walked over to the chair at the foot of the bed and followed him to shut off the fireplace. With that done, she walked back to the bed as he sat down in the chair, trying to get comfortable. But it wasn't until he smiled at her that she felt right enough to crawl between the sheets. She clicked off the lamp beside the bed, leaving the room lighted only by the faint moonlight, took one more look at him, and said, "Goodnight."  
  
"Goodnight, Miss Bristow."  
  
## ##  
  
Vaughn woke with a start several hours later, and sat up straight, taking a moment to acclimate himself to his surroundings. What was it that woke him?  
  
He got his answer a second after he'd had the thought when Sydney tossed on the bed, whimpering, "no..." as her head flailed from one side to the other.  
  
He stood up in worry, watching her get more and more agitated. "No...I'm sorry! ...NO!" she screamed again, and he rushed toward her and didn't hesitate to climb in the bed beside her, gathering her into his arms.  
  
"Shh...it's okay," he whispered into her hair as she clung to him, wrapping her arms around his middle. He got comfortable leaning against the headboard, letting her rest against his chest. "You're safe."  
  
She sniffed and wiped her eyes as she became more awake, but she didn't let go of him. "I'm sorry," she sniffed again. "I didn't mean to wake you up."  
  
He ignored her apology as if waking him up wasn't even an issue. "You were having a nightmare."  
  
She nodded against his chest. "I have the same one every once in a while," she whimpered.  
  
He just stroked her hair away from her face, waiting without probing to see if she even wanted to talk about it. After a minute, she started to explain softly, "I was the one to find Danny...my fiancé...when he was murdered. He was laying in the bathtub at his apartment," she sniffed yet again. "I couldn't marry him letting him believe that I worked for a bank, so I told him the truth about my life. And my boss had him kill--" she choked on the word and hugged Vaughn tighter as if the nightmare could still hurt her just by talking about it. She started again between sobs and sniffs, "...this dream I have is...is always the same: it's Danny, in the bathtub," she scrunched her face, "bloody...and-and dying, and he suddenly sits up...and *accuses* me of killing him."  
  
She was sobbing by the time she finished talking; Vaughn could tell by the way her body shook against his, and he pulled her up to wrap his arms more securely around her. She buried her face into his shoulder as she cried, and he simply held her until her sobs quieted and her tears slowed.  
  
Some time later, when she was still and quiet, he thought she'd gone to sleep again. So he slid them both down until they were lying flat, and then waited a moment before attempting to guide her off of him back onto her stomach so he could retreat back to his chair.  
  
Sydney grabbed him before he could get away. "Stay," she begged sleepily, looking up in the dark into his eyes for him to understand. "Please?"  
  
Vaughn timidly conceded and lied back down beside her as she scooted her pillow over for him to use, and she curled up next to him, using his shoulder as her new pillow. With his arm wrapped securely around her back and her arm draped across his stomach, they both quickly fell back to sleep.  
  
When she woke up the next morning and found herself facing Vaughn propped on his outstretched arm, memories of her reoccurring nightmare flooded back, and she remembered how Vaughn had comforted her. She looked up at his laughable and messy bed-hair to his peaceful, sleeping face and smiled at the stubble on his chin, noticing a knick from his first attempt at shaving in his new environment the morning before. He looked so peaceful and kind and she knew he was so unselfish that she just couldn't keep herself from scooting over and kissing his cheek in thanks, even if he didn't feel it. She'd have to remember to thank him later as well, she knew as she rolled out of bed.  
  
Vaughn woke up in the empty bed for a second day in a row, and sat up, looking around for Sydney. Noticing the bathroom door was closed, he realized by the sound of water running that she must be in the shower.  
  
As he waited for her to finish and reemerge, he picked out an outfit they'd bought for him the day before, when her phone rang again. Hearing the water turn off, and the phone ringing a second time, he didn't know what to do. He knocked on the door and told her about the phone, when she suddenly opened the door, wrapped only in a towel, and looked at him questioningly. "Did you need something?"  
  
He simply pointed in shock as it rang a fourth time, and Sydney nodded, stepping out to grab it off of the dresser before retreating back behind the closed door of the bathroom again as she answered it.  
  
Vaughn sank down on the edge of the bed when he was alone again, trying not to picture what she looked like a moment before, wearing nothing but a thick, white, terrycloth, bath sheet. The sight of her like that made him warm and uncomfortable, but in a way that he wanted to explore to see what would come of it. It seemed so intimate the way she trusted him, and he didn't want to do anything to tarnish the special friendship that seemed to be building between them. But he wanted more than that too.  
  
Standing up as she stepped out into the bedroom, now fully clothed, he listened as she finished up her conversation on the phone and hung up. "That was Weiss," she told Vaughn. "He wants to meet with us this morning before he has to go home. So, we're going to have breakfast with him this morning."  
  
Vaughn simply nodded with a pained smile and picked up his clothes off the bed.  
  
She gestured to the bathroom. "I'm done in there, so go ahead..."  
  
He nodded again, and avoided her eyes, still trying to get the earlier, scantily clad image of her out of his mind, as he walked past her toward the bathroom. She stopped him with a hand on his arm and he turned his body to face her again.  
  
"Vaughn. I wanted to say thank you...for last night. I didn't really want to be alone."  
  
He finally found his voice as he looked into her warm, brown eyes. "It was no trouble. I'm glad I was here for you."  
  
She looked from his eyes to the faint wrinkles in his forehead and smiled again. "Me too."  
  
## ## ## 


	7. Chapter 7

Sorry it's taken me so long to update this over here! I honestly forgot…

This fic (and its sequel) is finished so I'll try to remember to update more often until they're both completely posted. Feel free to remind me:-)

Thanks for reading!

**Chapter 7:**

Vaughn didn't take as much time getting showered and shaved as he had the day before, and soon they were able to leave in order to inconspicuously meet with Weiss. Sydney explained to Vaughn that they couldn't speak about anything work-related, and how they were going pretend to "meet" Weiss by sharing a table at one of the more popular, crowded restaurants. Vaughn assured her that he understood, and the meeting went without a hitch.

The three of them laughed and joked for the first hour as if they were old friends, never once bringing up any past history between them to throw off any suspicions.

"Have you tried any of the pastry shops here?" Sydney asked Weiss as they were drinking their last cup of coffee before they would part ways; her way of asking if he ever got any éclairs like he wanted the day before.

"Oh yeah," he moaned, patting his stomach. "I tried at least one éclair from like twenty different shops. I'm going to have a hard time working that off, but man, was it worth it. They're _all_ good."

Sydney and Vaughn both laughed lightheartedly as they all stood to leave. Together, the three of them walked to stand next to the roar of the water from a large fountain as a buffer for any listening devices, and Sydney asked if he was going back home to L.A.

"Not until this afternoon. I'm going to go over to your old house," he nodded to Vaughn, "to take some pictures first."

"It's still standing?" Vaughn asked curiously.

"Yeah," Weiss grinned. "It's a museum now."

Sydney smiled; not bothering to ask whom the pictures would be for. There was no reason for the CIA to want them, so she knew that Weiss merely wanted them for his own personal family history collection.

"Well, I'm off," Weiss told them, and reached out to shake Vaughn's hand. "It was nice to meet you."

"You too."

"See you later, Eric," Sydney smiled but almost laughed when Weiss pointed at Vaughn and mouthed, 'Take care of him' behind Vaughn's back and then made a slashing gesture across his throat.

She nodded slightly and turned her attention back to Vaughn when he commented, "Hmm, interesting. Eric is my best friend's name too."

"It is?"

He nodded and Sydney suddenly she realized that he probably named his child Eric after his best friend, and it instantly became a family name, passed from one generation to the next. But she kept the thought to herself, and asked instead, "You ready?"

"Where should we go first?"

She shrugged, "How about if we just see how far we can walk?"

"Alright," he agreed and they started on their journey.

As they walked for the rest of the day, across the bridges on the Seine, passed by fountains, and monuments, cathedrals, and schools, they talked about their lives. Sydney learned about Vaughn's time in the French army, as they passed by the military school he'd attended as a teenager. She enjoyed listening to him talk about the antics he and his friends pulled, trying to get away with breaking curfew and tricking his authority figures. She laughed, and pictured him in his uniform, secretly wishing she'd known him then as well.

After a while, they reached an area of town that had shops and markets, and a pleasant garden square. They window-shopped until Sydney found a store that sold candles and bath essentials, and she wanted to go in. Vaughn followed her in and she purchased a couple of small candles, some fragrant bath beads, and some bubble bath she picked out on impulse.

When lunchtime arrived, they found a quaint little café to eat at. Vaughn pointed out an old house about a thousand yards away from his seat at the outdoor table, and said that his best friend Eric lived there in his day. It seemed strange to both of them that although Vaughn had missed out on over a hundred years, Paris was still his home. He proved that as they strolled through town and he pointed out different haunts he visited frequently; taverns and gardens and buildings. And the more he talked, the closer Sydney felt to him, and when he offered his arm as they continued to walk, she didn't hesitate taking it.

They came upon a wide-open area where they passed a couple of museums, and it would have been a very touristy thing to go in to either place, but holding on to Vaughn's arm, having him point out the sights he recognized from afar was much more appealing and fulfilling to her.

The elaborate bridge called Alexandre III was just past an immense grassy place, but because it was built just before the turn of the twentieth century, Vaughn did not know it. He stood in awe as he viewed the massive structure with a column topped with a golden statue on each corner, commenting that he couldn't believe that it was going to be built within ten years after his return to the past.

Sydney pulled at his arm with a smile. "Come on. Let's walk across it."

They walked in wonder across the bridge, taking in the ornate lights that lined it on both sides; the lights on the ends surrounded by statues of children. They paused in the middle to watch a ferry go under, and Sydney smiled up at him, silently wondering if they would have a chance to go on a tour of the Seine by water while he was still there. Vaughn sought out her hand and squeezed it as if to promise that they would make time. And as they continued on across the bridge, it didn't occur to either of them that they'd just had a conversation without ever speaking a word.

Once on the other side of the Seine, they came upon two buildings: The Grand Palais and The Petit Palais, which were used for temporary expositions. They were built the same year as the Alexandre III bridge, so Vaughn studied them too as if he were memorizing them for his trip back to his time.

Sydney sat down on a bench behind him as he studied the buildings, and after a few minutes, when he turned and noticed her, he walked over and sat down beside her. "Are you tired?"

"A little bit," she admitted. "Would you mind if we went back now? We could go _out_ to dinner tonight…" she offered as an incentive.

Vaughn slowly grinned his approval, as he began to study her face as meticulously as he had the sights they'd seen during the entire day. Sydney's eyes lit up with amusement at his expression as he stared at her.

"What?" she finally asked.

His eyes never left hers as he shook his head. "You're so beautiful."

Sydney's eyes widened and then she smiled and blushed and looked down. He put a finger on her chin and tilted her head back up to force her to meet his gaze. "Don't look away. Hasn't anyone ever complimented you before?"

She nodded slightly. "Danny did a few times," she turned her eyes back to her lap as his fingers dropped from her face. "And…my father…once."

"Do me a favor?" he asked and Sydney looked back up in sheer curiosity. "Don't ever settle for any man who doesn't appreciate your beauty."

Sydney was glad she was sitting down because she was sure that comment would've made her weak in the knees. She forced herself to look deep into his eyes for her promise, "I won't."

That elicited another slow smile from him and he stood up, offering his hand. "Shall we walk back?"

She sighed, thinking about how far they'd come, and suggested, "Let's take a cab instead."

Vaughn's first trip in a car was one of wonderment as he stared and watched how the driver handled the steering wheel and all of the knobs and buttons. Sydney simply watched him beam like a child at an amusement park for the first time. Things she considered mundane were so new and fascinating to him. But it was watching _him_ that was _her_ entertainment.

Jack called as Sydney was opening the door to their room and informed her that he'd intercepted the courier and switched the blank page before SD-6 even saw it. "That's great, Dad," Sydney breathed with relief, knowing that it was safely in the hands of the CIA and _not_ Sloane's. She kept the conversation noncommittal and short until she could sweep the room for bugs, as she had to do every time they'd left it empty, and lovingly said goodbye to her father.

Sydney took her small bag of bath essentials into the bathroom as soon as she'd finished the sweep and found nothing, took the little bottles out of the bag and set them on the edge of the tub to be there the next time she bathed.

It was still too early to eat, so she and Vaughn then set about putting away all of the clothes they'd bought the day before into the dresser drawers. She tried to push away the feeling of intimacy it gave her at sharing a dresser with him. There were seven drawers, so they each had three on their own side, and the top middle one would be used for her cell phones, chargers, and all other small paraphernalia she had cluttering the top, making it look messy.

For dinner, she chose her new classic black pantsuit, with a white shirt and black heels. She'd shopped wisely, buying things she could also use for work when she returned home when this bizarre, easy assignment would be over and she had to go back to her old life. She needed something to keep her tethered to reality, if even something as small as the style of clothes she wore.

She changed in the bathroom and fixed her hair and makeup, while Vaughn changed in the bedroom. He knocked on the door to signal that he was dressed, and after applying her lipstick, Sydney opened the door and stepped out.

Her breath was taken away as Vaughn stood up off of the corner of the bed and she noticed he'd picked out the infamous green sweater that brought out the deep color of his eyes. He was staring at her the same transfixed way as she was him; letting his eyes travel down her body, taking in her long, graceful legs that seemed even longer on those three-inch heels.

He was wearing black pants, and a white Oxford underneath his sweater; Sydney could tell by the way the collar stuck out of the neck at a weird angle. Smiling, she closed the gap between them and straightened his collar, and felt the comfortable way their breaths mingled in the tiny space.

Vaughn reached up to his neck to touch the collar as she stepped away, and looked at his reflection in the mirror above the dresser. "Thank you," he told her awkwardly, and then picked up his new black leather jacket from the chair. He swallowed noticeably before saying, "Shall we?" and holding out his arm to lead her.

Dinner was surprisingly pleasant as they made conversation over the din of patrons in the overly crowded restaurant, but Sydney highly doubted that any meal shared with Vaughn would ever be unpleasant. They talked and laughed over their meal, and when they were through, before their dessert was served, Vaughn glanced over at the dance floor in the room.

Sydney's eyes followed his, so she wasn't surprised when he asked for the honor of a dance. She grinned in response, allowing her hand to take his as he led her away from their table, and as they pushed their way through the crowd on the edge of the dance floor, Vaughn's hand left hers and moved to the small of her back.

Sydney's back arched involuntarily at his touch, which sent a thousand tiny tingles along her spine. A man had never before affected her in that way, so it was a little exciting and she felt her step quicken in response. Reaching an open space on the floor, he again claimed her hand and they took their position to waltz. "I should've worn a dress for this," she whispered as they took the first steps, and he felt almost giddy at the feeling of her warm breath in his ear.

For the first few turns around the floor, neither of them spoke, but Vaughn finally commented on how well she danced. "It was part of my training," she admitted, and he pulled back slightly to look at her in confusion.

"For work?"

She nodded. "I had to learn to blend in, no matter what the circumstances."

"So you are comfortable anywhere," he assumed.

"Just about. Although there are some places I _can_ blend in to that _aren't_ exactly comfortable. Like sex clubs," she added, and regretted the words the second they slipped out.

Vaughn's eyes registered the shock she expected. "There are…_clubs_?" he asked timidly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sydney's face turned red, she was sure, and she was suddenly grateful for the dim lighting. She just nodded to answer his question, and then put her face past his over his shoulder as they finished the dance.

When the song was over, Vaughn suggested they sit back down and Sydney wholeheartedly agreed. All the way back to the table, she had a long talk with herself about what to say and what not to say, since the current tension between them was palpable because of her big mouth. Dessert came and eased their nervousness, but it didn't completely dissipate.

As they stepped outside when they were through, Sydney considered how they should get back to the hotel. Although they'd ridden a cab to get there, she thought that the cool night air and a pleasant talk about something mundane might get their minds off of their last conversation as they walked the short distance back to the hotel.

Vaughn obviously thought the same thing, because soon they were walking down the street, side-by-side, and he casually asked her to tell him about her friends. She started with Francie, and told him how they met in junior high school, hitting on some of the highlights of their friendship over the years. "She's a nut, but she has a big heart," she told him as she shivered, causing her teeth to chatter unexpectedly.

Vaughn looked over at the woman beside him and saw how she wrapped her arms around her body, trying to stay warm. He took off his leather jacket, barring the cold weather himself, and wrapped it around her shoulders against her mild protests…the same protests that quelled on her lips when she looked into his eyes mere inches from hers beside her and felt her breath hitch.

Sydney wrapped her fingers around the zipper enclosure with her arms inside of the jacket to hold it closed. It already smelled more like Vaughn than it did like new leather, and she lowered her face to inhale his sweet scent before lifting her gaze to meet his again.

"Better?" he asked, and she nodded and smiled.

"Much. Thank you." His eyes sparkling from the streetlights pleasantly distracted her, so she asked, "What was I saying?"

"Francie," he reminded her, and Sydney continued what she had been saying about her best friend.

She felt Vaughn tense a little beside her when she started to talk about Will a while later, and touched on the history of her friendship with him. Vaughn listened intently for any hint of her feelings for the other man, but Sydney gave away nothing, save the appreciation she had for having such a great friend in her life.

By the time she'd brought her friendship with Will up to the present date, they'd reached their hotel, and walked quietly inside. The walk had been good, because they were both comfortable with each other again as they prepared for bed.

Sydney came out of the bathroom after changing clothes and brushing her teeth, and noticed that Vaughn was already propped on the chair with his pillow. Flicking off the bathroom light, she crossed to the bed and sat down, watching him punch the pillow under his neck, trying desperately to get comfortable. "Vaughn," she said, and he looked up at her. "This is ridiculous. We're both adults, and there's plenty of room on the bed for both of us."

His eyes moved from hers to the massive amount of space on the bed and he knew she was right. But still he hesitated. Sharing a bed with a woman who was not your wife was simply not done in his time. Or if it was, it was at least not widely talked about.

Sydney slid her legs between the sheets and folded over the covers on what would be his side of the bed, should he choose to accept it. She smiled and gestured with her head for him to come over.

He sat up slightly. "Are you sure?"

Her smile widened. "Vaughn, you've slept beside me for the past two nights. You can stop worrying. I don't bite," she teased, and the smile in his eyes reached his lips.

He finally conceded and stood up, bringing his pillow with him this time and setting it down in its place, before joining her under the covers, keeping a foot of space between them. He lied on his back, tucking an arm behind his head, and Sydney scooted down to lay on her side facing him.

Silence settled over the room, as they both listened to the quiet ticks of the bedside clock and the sound of their lungs slowly breathing a pattern between them. Sydney watched his eyes blink in sleeplessness, and then let her gaze travel down to the distinguishing bump in his nose, to his lips, and finally the dimple in his chin. And for a moment, she could picture herself running her thumb into that dimple between shared kisses under her front porch light. But being reminded of the reality of their situation, she sobered, and grasped just how unfair life was for her to find him in the wrong time.

Turning her attention back to the features of his face, she settled on the dimple again. Surely Elizabeth enjoyed that feature of his as his fiancé as much as Sydney did as his…temporary friend. But considering how old fashioned and sheltered he was, she wasn't sure what physical steps he'd experienced in his life. Perhaps he'd never even kissed before.

"Have you ever kissed a woman?" she asked out loud before she could stop herself and again she vowed to have that inner discussion to keep her mouth shut to refrain from embarrassing herself. What was wrong with her? It was like she'd completely forgotten about compartmentalization skills and just blurted the first thing that came to her mind anymore.

Fortunately, Vaughn seemed unaffected as he turned his head to face her. He nodded and answered unemotionally, "Yes," but as he kept his gaze trained on her face, he smiled slightly.

He was having a hard time keeping his eyes off of her full lips after she'd asked the question, wondering what her kiss would feel like in comparison to Elizabeth's. But the moment he had the thought, he pushed it away, turning to face the ceiling again. If there was one thing he shouldn't do, it was compare the two women.

Women in the future, including Sydney, were different. They were more independent, and outspoken, and the way they dressed in public was far more revealing than any private moment he'd ever had with Elizabeth in her state of undress. He had not yet been intimate with her, but they'd come close on several occasions, usually ending with her in her bustier. Once he reached the ties on the back of that tight piece of clothing, he would come to his senses and push her away, claiming that it wasn't right. It wasn't the act of making love that scared him off, but the overwhelming feeling that that was what it _should_ be: making _love_. How could he do that to a woman he didn't love?

That's when it hit him. He didn't love Elizabeth. Up until that point, he thought he did, and he just didn't know what love was; that he would feel all of the physical reactions he'd assumed he'd feel as the years passed and they grew closer in marriage. Those were physical feelings that he never knew even _existed_ outside of a well-established marriage until he met Sydney Bristow.

He turned to look at her again, now quietly sleeping in the same position on her side, as her chest expanded and contracted with each deep breath. His heart swelled and sped up just a bit when he remembered how she felt in his arms as they were dancing, how warm her breath felt in his ear and on his face when they were close, and how his skin tingled when she straightened his collar or took his arm. They were all feelings he'd never felt before, with _any_ woman in his past. Perhaps he would've never known what it was like if he'd never followed her into the future, but now that he had, would he be able to live without ever feeling that way again?

He didn't know, but he also knew he didn't have a choice.

He knew without a doubt that his future—currently in the past—was going to be difficult without Sydney Bristow in it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8:**

When Vaughn woke up the next morning, before he even opened his eyes, he could feel Sydney in his arms. He blinked at the same time his mouth curved up into a slight smile, noticing the way she was snuggled up against him, but it was clear by their positioning directly in the center of the bed, that she wasn't the only one that had moved from her original position. He wondered if he'd reached out for her in the middle of the night, and instantly he knew he wouldn't have been surprised if he had.

He turned his head slightly to bury his nose into her hair and inhaled her clean scent of shampoo and the hint of a perfume wafting from her neck that smelled like something familiar but couldn't place. Unconsciously, he pressed his lips against her head in a kiss, and felt her shift slightly; her arms pulling herself closer to him another inch.

Vaughn didn't want to move. And the fact that he had to use the restroom didn't faze him at all as his hand came up to sit atop hers on his chest, letting the warm and comfortable feeling wash over him more than the sun that was peeking through the curtains.

Even though he wasn't experienced in the intimate ways of a physical relationship between a man and a woman, it was clear that Sydney probably had been, but even considering that, he felt like she was still a lady in every sense of the word. The way she carried herself rivaled any sophisticated woman from his time, even though the world around her had drastically changed since then. She was brilliant, and elegant, and precious, he realized as he softly stroked her hand with his thumb.

Feeling her take a deep breath as she began to wake, he lifted his head slightly and watched as she turned her face to his, resting her chin on his chest. Their eyes met and they both smiled shyly. "Hey," she spoke first.

"Hi."

"Did you sleep okay?"

His grin widened and he hugged her tighter. "Comfortably, thank you. And you?"

She nodded a little; grinning to reveal her dimples, and slowly blinked her tired eyes. "You make a great pillow." Waiting until the gentle vibrations of his chest from his chuckling stopped, she asked, "What should we do today?"

He thought for a moment, and then decided, "Let's go for another walk. Would that be okay?"

"Sounds great," she kept the smile on her face and didn't move from her spot.

Vaughn really wanted to stay like that, but nature was unfortunately calling him. So he asked, "Would you mind if I used the bathroom first this morning?"

"Sure," she told him and started to roll away from him when he stopped her by grabbing her hand and tightening the arm around her back.

Sydney turned back and their eyes met again, and she could feel her heart starting to pound in the close proximity, locked in his warm gaze, with his hand wrapped around hers on his chest.

Vaughn had intended to thank her for sharing the bed, but couldn't seem to get the trite words to form on his lips. The truth was that he still didn't want to lose the comfortable feeling of waking up beside her. It was hard to face the truth of their situation, and not pretend that what they were sharing in those first few moments in the morning were real and the foundation that they could build on. Instead they had no choice but to face it, or else the result would be heartbreak.

He loosened his grip, finally saying, "Thank you," essentially breaking the tense moment. Sydney seemed to read his expression and simply nodded sadly and allowed him to get up.

Once he was in the other room, Sydney laid back on her pillow again with a sigh, still feeling the queasiness of her stomach from the few seconds of bliss she felt before he came to his senses and let her go. It was unfair. After Danny died, Sydney didn't think she'd _ever_ feel anything for any other man, at least for a very long time. And she knew that if and when it did happen, she'd hold on like crazy to what she'd found so that she wouldn't ever lose it again.

And now that it was happening, now that she was feeling those same initial feelings for Vaughn, he was going to be pulled from her grasp just as Danny had and there was nothing she could do about it. _At least this time I'll get to say goodbye_, she reminded herself. But regrettably, that didn't help her with her sorrow.

Sydney pounded the mattress with her fist in frustration, feeling tears starting to burn and form in her eyes and she tried to focus on the positive to keep from crying, just as her SD-6 cell phone rang. And answering it didn't help when she heard Sloane's voice in her ear again.

Vaughn came out of the bathroom after he'd finished showering and shaving, and found Sydney sitting at the table with her forehead in her hand. "What's wrong?" he asked as he approached and stood beside the table next to her.

Sydney shook her head and gestured at the phone. "It's just…my boss…wants me to do another job here in Paris."

"Another job?"

She nodded. "He wants me to break in and steal a painting, which is pretty normal, and something I'd do by myself at any other place, but," she paused with a sigh, "this painting…it's in the…Louvre--"

"The Louvre? He wants you to break in to the Louvre?"

Her face scrunched as she nodded again, "It sounds terrible, doesn't it?"

"Couldn't you just tell him you don't want to?"

"I could, but he'll just send someone else, and then SD-6 will get the painting, and the CIA will be another step behind him."

"I see," Vaughn nodded, and then asked, "And the job will be difficult?"

"Yes. No…" she argued with herself. "…Just dangerous."

"Because you'd be alone." She nodded noncommittally as Vaughn had an epiphany. "I could go with you."

Sydney's head shot up. "No, Vaughn--"

"It's no trouble--"

"You're not trained--"

"I was trained in the French Army--"

"That's not what I meant. The technology--"

"Then teach me." Sydney stopped arguing and just looked at him dumbfounded. He explained, "Show me how everything works and then I'll be there to make sure you stay safe."

"I can't let you do that. Sloane—or at least Marshall—would _never_ approve."

"Then you won't tell them."

She slowly blinked when she realized he was going to talk her into it, one way or another, and he probably wouldn't back down until she agreed. Searching his face, she questioned, "You're serious, aren't you?"

He closed the distance between them and placed a hand on her cheek, looking deeply into her eyes, speaking each of his next words deliberately, "I don't want anything to happen to you."

Sydney knew she was on the losing end of the argument, so she conceded with a nod and Vaughn let his hand slide away from her face. "Okay," she thought out loud. "I have to go get the gear we'll need. Stay here, okay?"

"Okay, I will," he promised as Sydney stood up. "Be careful."

Sydney walked out with a lighter step, knowing that not only did he care about her, but that he was going to be there to help her.

It took more than an hour to get all of their gear; SD-6's French tech ops guy was efficient enough to tell her what she would need, and fortunately left her in the room full of equipment, telling her take whatever else she needed. Making sure to get _two_ black jumpsuits and masks, she packed them along with everything else into the suitcases that would disguise their entrance into the hotel.

Sydney knocked on the door instead of digging for her key because her hands were full, and Vaughn opened it with a smile, immediately taking the bags from her. "You made it back," he said with relief.

"Are you kidding?" she said lightly as she closed the door behind her. "That was the easy part." Setting the bags side-by-side on the bed, Vaughn stood back and waited as she explained, "Now comes the hard part."

They spent the rest of the day inside as Sydney went over everything they would have to use to break into the heavily guarded and alarmed museum, and Vaughn listened intently when she explained how each item worked.

They ordered room service for lunch so they could continue to work, and by dinnertime, they both needed a break. Vaughn suggested that they go out for dinner, and Sydney enthusiastically agreed. They both grabbed their jackets, Vaughn helped her put on hers, and together they walked out of the room.

Waiting for the elevator to arrive, Sydney asked one more time, "Are you _sure_ you want to help me tonight? You can still back out…"

Vaughn's face grew into a half-grin as he grabbed her hand and held it. "I'm positive. We'll be okay," he reassured her, just as the doors opened. Stepping onto the elevator, he didn't bother to let go of her hand and Sydney let him hold it, feeling a stifled smile on her face as they both turned and leaned up against the wall facing the doors.

They looked at each other awkwardly as the elevator descended to the lobby, and Sydney shifted her hand slightly to intertwine her fingers with his. The looks on both of their faces changed and smoldered, and when Sydney felt her body temperature rise, she dropped her eyes with a repressed giggle deep within her chest, just as the doors opened again.

But before they could get off the elevator, Sydney froze in her step when she saw her father waiting to get on. "Dad!" she said in shock, dropping Vaughn's hand and stepping away from him. "What are you doing here?"

He looked suspiciously from Sydney to Vaughn and back again as they walked out toward him into the vestibule, but Sydney could tell that he was still intent on Vaughn. "I came to see how you were doing," he answered flatly.

"You could have called--"

"I was already in town. If you weren't in your room, I would've called."

When he looked back to Vaughn again, giving him a once over, Sydney collected her thoughts again. "Oh. Dad, this is Michel Vaughn. Vaughn, this is my father, Jack Bristow."

The men politely shook hands, but Sydney could still feel the tension radiating from her father. She got nervous when he asked to speak to her alone, so when Vaughn obliged and walked away, she asked him, "So, why were you in town?" to get the focus off of her.

"Sloane sent me to acquire something, but I wasn't able to get it."

"Oh. What was it?" she continued to elude him away from the subject she knew he really wanted to discuss.

It didn't work. "What is going on between you two?" he demanded to know.

"Nothing," she said lightly, shrugging her shoulders in emphasis. She rushed on, "We're just friends."

His eyes searched hers, and he raised an eyebrow—a sure sign that he didn't believe her. "Sydney, this was an assignment--"

"I know, Dad--"

"—not a weekend getaway. I would suggest you don't get too attached to him. He goes back in a week."

She dropped her chin to her chest as she repeated the words in her mind, and then whispered, "I know." Forcing herself to regain her composure, she lifted her eyes to his. "But Dad, I know what I'm doing."

"I think it would be best if we called in Dixon to take your place."

"No, I'm fine. Vaughn and I…were just having a good time. And I think Sloane was right about me needing a break." Thinking back to the day they spent planning for Sloane's next mission though reminded her, "Except I'm not exactly getting a break anyway."

"What do you mean?"

She looked back up. "He's given me another assignment while I'm here."

"Do you need backup?"

"No," she lied, knowing there was _no way_ she was going to tell him about Vaughn's involvement. "It's a simple op; I've got tech to handle the alarms and security, and there are only two guards on duty. I'll be in and out of there before they know it."

"Location?"

"Little place. No big deal." She knew he'd have her head once he got home and found out where it really was that she had to break into, especially when he would offer his assistance if he knew right then. But, she knew she _could_ do it on her own, so even Vaughn's assistance wasn't completely necessary, but it sure felt good to know he'd be there watching out for her.

She changed the subject, "Have you had dinner? Vaughn and I were going to go have Italian in the Latin Quartier. You could join us," she offered.

Jack hesitated, knowing he had his plane to catch, but decided it wouldn't hurt to hang around a bit longer and see if Sydney could be trusted to handle taking care of Vaughn for the rest of the week without falling for him. She already seemed to be smitten with the younger man, and Jack didn't want to see her fragile heart get broken again.

So, with his approval, the three of them went to dinner.

Vaughn made Sydney proud as he matched her father with his knowledge of Paris, both old and what he'd learned in the present. The two men debated over the appetizer, argued over dinner, and came to an understanding over dessert that they were each as intelligent as the other.

Having returned to their hotel, Jack shook hands to say goodbye to Vaughn, and then kissed his daughter on the cheek, wishing her good luck on that night's mission without actually saying the words. Sydney prayed that Vaughn wouldn't say anything about going with her, and fortunately he didn't, and when her father left, she breathed a sigh of relief that he was gone.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9:**

"So, do you want to do the honors?" Sydney asked Vaughn as she handed him the remote that would scramble the security cameras before she opened a door on the back side of the building, far away from where any visitors normally would wander.

Knowing that with one push of the button would officially start their mission together, Vaughn grinned excitedly as he took it from her and waited for any final instructions that she might have.

She told him, "Now after the security cameras are down, we'll have two minutes to reach the alarm panel." He nodded in understanding. "Ready?" she asked, as the adrenaline started to build along with her heart rate.

"Let's do it," he answered lightly, making Sydney _sure_ that he was slowly picking up some of the modern lingo from the cable television in their hotel room. After she smiled in response, they both pulled on their black masks. Then she nodded, and he pushed the button on the scrambler at the same time she attached the box that would open the coded outer door.

Once inside, they had enough time to walk the length of a long hallway to their next stop, instead of running like she was typically used to. Sydney was cautious with each step, knowing that Vaughn was putting himself and the lives of countless others at stake just by being there with her. She couldn't help but think of Weiss and said casually, "You know, Weiss would _kill_ me if he knew that I was letting you help me right now."

"Why?" he asked from a step behind her.

"Well…" she kept walking, "If I tell you, you can't tell _anyone_ about it…ever."

"Okay. That fits in with just about everything else I've experienced since I've been here," he said dryly.

Sydney laughed. "Yeah, I guess so." Pausing for a moment, checking around a corner for guards and finding them completely alone, she told him, "It's kind of hard to explain, but Weiss is…your great-great-grandson."

"_What_?" he said with a little more shock than Sydney expected.

She nodded. "Are you surprised? You don't picture yourself having grandchildren?"

Thinking about his loveless relationship with Elizabeth, he admitted, "I think I'm more surprised that I will actually have a child." Immediately, he shut himself up as they reached the door to the electrical control room.

Sydney paused as she was getting her lock picking tools out of her bag. "What do you mean?" she asked over her shoulder before starting to work on the door.

Should he tell her that he didn't love Elizabeth enough to marry her, let alone ever have children with her? Maybe. But what would it matter? In a week, he'd have to go back to his life and be content with it, and live with Sydney only in his memories. He shook his head to clear it of the depression he was starting to feel. "Nothing," he finally muttered and he and Sydney both turned back to the task at hand as she got the door open.

They slipped inside the control room, and then Sydney opened up a box on the wall, pulling out a couple of wires. She connected two wires sticking out of what looked like another small remote to the wires in the box with alligator clamps, pushed the button, causing a power surge that disabled the alarms, and then she turned to Vaughn and said, "Okay, I should be back in less than ten minutes with the painting."

The plan was that he would stay there while she broke into the basement storage room where the painting was located—which should've been simple because the guards should've been busy trying to get the security system working again—and then she would meet him back in the electrical room with the painting.

But it didn't go as she'd planned when she got down the hall and stepped through a door, and came face-to-face with one of the guards. She kicked and punched and struggled and fought with him until she managed to knock the large man out, but then when she stood up and turned around, she found herself facing the business end of the other guard's gun.

Sydney held up her hands in defeat, and then heard a thump and watched as the guard suddenly flinched and fell to his face on the ground in front of her. Vaughn stepped into the room from the door behind where the guard had been standing and yelled at her, "Go!" as he bent to pick up the second guard's gun.

Sydney didn't question why and how Vaughn had followed her and managed to knock out the guard with just his fist, but just turned and ran in the direction of the storage room to finish the job. She found the room, blew up the door's lock with a small charge of C-4, and searched for the painting. Finding its sixteen by twenty-inch frame among some others in a corner, she cut it out, rolled it up and slid it into the tube in her shoulder bag, before running out and back the way she'd come.

Fortunately, she found Vaughn still standing over both of the unconscious guards with the gun in hand, and they both took off running and got out before anyone outside of the building was alerted to the break-in. Once outside, they stripped off their jumpsuits and masks, shoved them in a garbage bag and tied it, dropping into a nearby can as they calmly walked away, now dressed as though they were just a couple of young lovers out touring the city by the midnight moon. They even walked hand-in-hand with Sydney resting her head on Vaughn's shoulder to further convince anyone who might've been suspicious. And once they reached the Champs-Elysées, they hailed a cab to take them back to the hotel.

Sydney dropped her bag on the table once they were safely inside the room, and did a quick scan for bugs as Vaughn locked the door. She turned back to Vaughn when she was done to ask what she'd been dying to ask since they left the museum. "How did you know about the guards?" she questioned lightly, with a hand on her hip.

"I didn't," he shrugged as he approached her from the door, slipping his hands into his pockets. He then explained. "I heard you fighting with them when I was following you."

"But you were supposed to stay in the control room, remember?" she chided, turning more toward him.

He answered simply with a slight apologetic shrug, "How could I make sure that you were safe from there?"

Sydney's face fell at his divulgence, knocking her speechless for a second, and when she could move again, she took a small step toward him in complete wonder. "You weren't at all worried about yourself?"

"No," he shook his head as if it were the most natural answer in the world, "Only you."

Without waiting another second, Sydney closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms fiercely around his neck, in a hug that seemed like an everyday occurrence. "Thank you," she whispered, as his hands found their way onto her back, and he gingerly held her against him.

"Don't thank me," he whispered into her hair. "You needed my help."

"I'm glad you were there."

"I'm glad I was too."

Neither one of them let go of the other, nor bothered to change positions. Sydney elicited a noise from her throat in a contented sigh, and then came to her senses and told him disappointedly, "I have to call Woods before we go to bed." Vaughn sniffed in a sort of laugh and loosened his arms to let her go.

She stepped away to get her phone, and he gestured to the bathroom, saying, "I'll just be brushing my teeth."

Sydney nodded with a smile and hit the speed dial number on her phone to call her handler and make sure that the duplicate painting would be ready for the next day.

Closing the bathroom door behind him, Vaughn couldn't stop smiling. To say that he'd been excited about the mission was one thing, but it was that hug she gave him a moment earlier that had _really_ set his heart to racing. He could feel them growing closer with each passing day, but it was going to be over soon, he realized with regret.

_Why can't I just have her?_ he wondered. _Why couldn't someone like her live in my time? Or, at least, why don't I love Elizabeth as much as—_

He shook his head, refusing to finish that thought. If he let himself get that far, he might never go back to his life, and consequently change the course of history.

When he came out of the bathroom once he was ready for bed, Sydney was just ending her conversation. "Thanks, Woods. I'll see you next week," he heard her say.

Vaughn watched her curiously as she hung up the phone when he realized something. "What?" she asked when she saw him, to get him to say what was on his mind.

"Why do you call him by the name 'Woods' and Eric by his name 'Weiss'?"

She shrugged as she stood up from the chair, "It's a habit, I guess. When I joined the agency, everyone was called by their last names."

He nodded, but he was still perplexed as Sydney crossed the room and deposited her cell phone in the drawer. To her back, he formed the question that would explain his confusion, "But, Francie and Will…"

She spun around in realization. "Oh, that's different," she shook her head. "They're my friends."

He blinked and didn't answer for a moment, and when he did, his voice was hesitant. "Am I not…your friend?"

Sydney's face paled when she realized what he was saying. "Oh… Do you _want_ me to call you Michel?" she asked, being sure to look into his eyes for the truth.

He tilted his head timidly and half-shrugged. "Or the American version—Michael."

She felt her heart flutter a little with the way he was asking. "Okay…Michael," she conceded with a nod, feeling a little excited nausea in her midsection. "But only if you call me Sydney."

He cracked a smile then and agreed, "Okay."

Vaughn busied himself straightening the room while she readied for bed, trying to settle his stomach with the knowledge that 'Sydney' approved of his suggestion to call each other by their first names. What was unheard of in his time because of the personal nature of first names, usually spoken between family members or lovers; in the future, he'd noticed everyone speaking only first names, no matter how close or distant the relationship was between them. But it still felt special to him, and considering Sydney had yet to call him by his first name, he never realized how important it was to be able to hear her call him that until now.

He'd just slipped into bed and was leaning up against the headboard when Sydney came out of the bathroom. She paused as she turned off the bathroom light, staring at him in their bed. It was the first time that their sleeping arrangements were not discussed, so seeing him already comfortable in his place beside where she would be sleeping seemed intimate in a way they'd not yet experienced. She was frozen to the spot for a few moments, reminding herself how to breathe.

Vaughn saw her swallow nervously and smile, and felt his heart pounding, waiting for her to take her place beside him. Noticing her hesitation, he decided to break the silence by asking casually, "What should we do tomorrow?"

Sydney smiled tiredly, feeling a little relieved, and slowly crossed to the bed, shutting off the lamp beside it before slipping in between the sheets. "Let's sleep in," she answered as Vaughn automatically held out his arm for her. After all, if she was going to end up there by morning anyway, why not start out in that position? She curled up next to him, rested her head on his shoulder, and the two quieted to go to sleep.

A few minutes ticked by in silence, but Sydney noticed by the sounds of his regular breathing that Vaughn was still awake. "Aren't you tired?" she asked quietly, and saw him slightly shake his head out of the corner of her eye.

"Physically, I guess," he confirmed, shrugging his free shoulder. "But, I keep thinking about what it felt like to break into the _Louvre_."

She smiled. "It was exciting, wasn't it?"

"Is your job always like that?" he asked instead.

"Sometimes," she admitted with another yawn. "But there have been some jobs that I wish I hadn't done." She shifted, pulling herself closer to him, automatically hooking her leg over his, and shutting her eyes.

Vaughn tried to ignore how that simple movement made him internally hum with the excitement, and forced his mind to continue the conversation as normal. Swallowing hard, he said, "Like what?"

It took her a few seconds to answer and when she did, her voice was quiet. "Like this one time…where I had to, um…" she was starting to drift off, feeling her thoughts getting cloudier and less coherent with each word. "I had…to…watch a…" There was another long pause, "…a…a pie…"

Vaughn's face scrunched up in confusion, and he tilted his head to look at her. It was too dark to tell if she was awake or asleep, so he asked her to clarify, "A…a _pie_?"

"Mm-hmm," she mumbled, snuggling deeper into his side. "With…whipped cream."

He chuckled quietly when he realized she was asleep and lovingly kissed her head, hugging her close to him. "Goodnight, Sydney," he whispered into her hair, and heard her mumbled reply:

"Mmm…"


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: SO sorry that I haven't updated here in AGES!! I finished this story a long time ago, AND wrote and finished a sequel, so I'll try to be faster about posting updates and will post several at a time, whenever I have the chance.

Thanks for the reviews so far! I'm glad you are all enjoying this story, and I hope you're still around to read the rest!!

Enjoy!!

Em :)

**Chapter 10:**

Sydney woke up before dawn to the sound of her cell phone ringing from within the dresser drawer. She pulled herself out of Vaughn's sleeping embrace, causing him to wake up, and then fumbled around in the dark to retrieve the phone and answered it; her voice scratchy with fatigue, "Hello?"

"Sydney, _why_ didn't you tell me that the _painting_ was in the _Louvre_??"

She blinked when Vaughn turned on the bedside lamp behind her, and then leaned on her elbow on the dresser and held her head in her hand. "Dad?" she asked sleepily.

"_Yes_, it's me! I'd like to know why you didn't tell me when I was _there_!" he repeated. "I could've _helped_ you!!"

"I knew I could do it, and I…I-I didn't want you to worry," she proclaimed at a lame attempt to put him off. Before he could argue, she rushed on, "It was okay, though. I _got_ the painting and got out okay."

She heard him sigh with relief, although he was trying to hide it as usual. "Well, _that's_ good, I suppose. Were there any complications?"

"No, it was easy," she lied again and changed the subject. "I'll be switching them tomorrow before the dead drop."

"Sydney," his voice was a little softer. "If you _ever_ need any help, I would _hope_ by now that you could _trust_ me enough to ask. Help with anything…_including_ something like your current assignment…"

She knew he was talking about Vaughn, and she turned around to lean against the dresser to see Vaughn watching her; propped up on his elbow with his other palm resting flat against the bed where her body had been, waiting for her to return. "I know, Dad. If I feel like I need help, I _promise_ you that I'll call."

There was a long pause before Jack said quietly, "I trust you, Sydney."

Saying their goodbyes, she hung up and put her phone away again, and then walked over to turn off the lamp and crawl back into bed. Vaughn stayed in the same position with his head on his hand as she lay on her back on her unused pillow. "Was your father worried about you?" he asked her.

"Yeah," she nodded. "I didn't tell him about the Louvre earlier, and he apparently just found out."

"And he didn't know that I went with you, right?"

"Right." She rolled her eyes behind her lids. "I can't imagine what he'd do if he knew that." She rubbed her palm against her forehead and sighed as she let it plop down on the mattress, staring back at the ceiling. "Even _I_ know that probably wasn't the best decision I've ever made."

Picking her hand up again off of the mattress between them, he held it, saying, "We made it out, so don't worry about it now." That made her smile a little so he rested her palm on her stomach, and weaved his fingers through hers, making her heart speed up a little as she felt the skin of his rough hands tickling the valleys between her fingers.

Vaughn watched her eyes blink in silence as she mentally relived her conversation with her dad, and waited a moment before softly commenting, "You and your father seem really close."

Sydney felt like laughing. If only he knew… "We didn't _used_ to be. In fact, he was absent for most of my life—so much so that I hardly knew him until a few months ago, when I found out he and I were in the same business."

"You didn't know what he did for a living?"

"Not exactly. I thought he sold airplane parts," she smirked and then sighed. 

Vaughn didn't question her about what airplanes were because he had learned all about them in a documentary about the history of aviation on television while Sydney was getting the gear the day before. He simply nodded and she continued.

"And I'm still having a little trouble understanding him. I mean, he wants to have a relationship with me, and I do too, but it's just…_hard_, you know?"

He nodded but he didn't completely understand. "Why do think that is?" he asked to keep her talking.

"I don't know," she sighed again, honestly trying to figure that out for herself. And although she probably wouldn't have admitted it, talking to Vaughn was therapeutic. "I guess it's because of my mother. When she died, he… he fell apart."

"He loved her that much," Vaughn replied and Sydney turned her head to look at him.

"Yeah. I guess so," she nodded and then turned her face and looked up to the space above their bed. "I just hope I find that kind of love again someday," she murmured and then turned on her side away from him, feeling flushed with embarrassment that she'd divulged that kind of emotion. Or was it that she was already starting to feel that with Vaughn?

Vaughn didn't answer her comment, and simply slipped an arm around her waist and spooned up against her back. "You will," he told her honestly, believing that there was no way that a woman as wonderful as she would never find love like that again.

When they awoke later that morning after sleeping in, and made the switch and the dead drop, they spent the rest of the day visiting more of the popular sites of Paris, studying the outside of the buildings and monuments as they had on Sunday without venturing in. By lunchtime, Sydney was feeling almost like a typical tourist. "Have you ever been inside the Louvre?" she asked him over their desserts.

He gave her an amused look as his answer, so she leaned slightly across the table.

"Besides last night, I mean," she whispered.

He nodded, letting his amusement fade. "I used to visit it often," was his real answer.

"I took an art history class in college," Sydney told him, "and I've always wanted to go in. You think we could do that today?"

"You've never seen the inside?" he asked in surprise. The way she maneuvered around the city, not to mention the museum, was as though she knew it well.

She shook her head. "I've studied enough maps and floor plans enough to know where I'm going," she answered his silent question instead. Then as she took another bite, she asked, "Well?"

Vaughn set his fork down and leaned forward a little. "Would you mind if we did that tomorrow? I'm…I guess I'm kind of tired from last night."

"Sure," Sydney agreed easily. "I've heard it takes about two full days to see everything in it anyway." She took another bite and watched as he started studying something far off in the distance over her shoulder.

"What is that?" he stared, and Sydney turned to see what he was looking at.

It was a Ferris wheel that was still under much controversy in the city of Paris. Having been built temporarily on the Place de la Concorde for the city's millennium celebration in '99, it still remained, much to the chagrin of the more old-fashioned lovers of the city, who thought it was an eyesore. The fight to move it still continued even two years later. "Oh, that's the Big Wheel," she said, looking back at him. "Do you want to ride it?"

He met her eyes, and Sydney sensed a little fear along with the excitement she saw there.

An hour later, Vaughn was acting really nervous as they sat down in the car and the Ferris wheel started to turn, taking them high up in the air. Sydney almost laughed when he reached for her hand and gripped it tightly; while she had a hard time keeping the smile from cracking her face.

Once the reached the top, however, Vaughn relaxed quite a bit and sat in awe, staring at his beautiful birth city as if it were the first time he'd ever seen it. "Look," Sydney pointed down below to the outskirts of the city. "There's your house."

He leaned over her and nodded. "It looks so different," he mumbled. "Trees…" He pointed to the area surrounding his old estate as the wheel began to descend again.

His cheek was so close that Sydney could smell the aftershave she'd bought him. Of course, she just _had_ to have picked out her favorite brand without thinking about the ramifications at the time. Her heart was pounding with the combination of his closeness and the scent, and it was all she could do to keep from pulling him to her lips.

When he turned to look at her because he could feel her eyes on him, he too fought the internal desire, and instead leaned back again. Sydney suddenly realized that her hand was sweating between their entwined fingers, and was actually thankful when her cell phone rang in her pocket and she had to release it to dig the phone out to answer.

"Hello," she choked out once she had to her ear.

"Sydney," spoke the familiar voice of her friendly handler. "How's your assignment going?"

"It's…good," she smiled. "Of course, this assignment wasn't _exactly_ part of the original plan, remember?"

"Ah, that's okay. You're flexible," he teased back. "Listen. I suppose you heard your father was over there yesterday."

"Mm-hmm. He came to visit me after his assignment. But he didn't tell me what it was."

She could practically hear him nod. "Well, Sloane sent him to find a vial of fluid designed by Rambaldi, that was believed to be stored in a basement of an old cathedral, but it wasn't there. However, the agency's received some new Intel that Michel Vaughn once owned it."

"Really?" she looked to Vaughn beside her who was watching her have her conversation between glances at the city below as the wheel continued to turn. "Do you want me to ask him about it?"

"Yeah. When you get a chance. He might know what he did with it."

"Hang on," she told Woods and then turned to Vaughn with the phone pressed to her stomach. "Vau—Michael," she corrected herself. "Did you have a vial of Rambaldi's?"

He furrowed his brow and then answered, "A little bottle of liquid? Yes. I still do."

"You do?" He nodded and Sydney put the phone to her ear again. "He still had it before he came back with me—_us_," she covered.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Woods seemed confused. "I didn't know you were with him right now."

Sydney rushed to explain, "Oh, we're sightseeing. We're actually on 'The Big Wheel' at the moment."

"Oh," he said suspiciously. "Okay. Well, um, does he have any idea what he might've done with it?"

She repeated the question to Vaughn and he shook his head. "I wouldn't have gotten rid of it."

"Could you have hidden it somewhere?"

"Maybe," he shook his head as their car came to a stop and they were allowed to get off.

Sydney told Woods to hold on a moment as they got up and walked away from the ride, and then returned to her conversation with her handler. "He's not sure, but if he thinks of anything, I'll call you."

"Thanks, Sydney," Woods told her, and then hung up.

She sighed and looked back at Vaughn with a smile as she pocketed her phone again. "Wanna walk some more?"

"No," he shook his head unenthusiastically. "Is it alright if we just go back to the hotel?"

"Sure. Are you okay?" she touched his arm in worry.

He answered by lifting her hand up off of his arm and kissing the back of it and then smiled. "I'm fine. I'm just tired."

She smiled a genuine smile and then led him by hand to where they could get a cab to go back.

Once they reached their hotel room again, Sydney suggested that Vaughn take a nap, and she would order dinner later and wake him up when it arrived. He agreed and within ten minutes of laying his head to the pillow, he was asleep.

She spent the time quietly watching some TV, and then deciding what to eat for dinner and ordering it, she took a bath, not allowing herself to fall asleep this time.

She was out again by the time the food arrived, now comfortably dressed for bed. Vaughn was still asleep, so she picked up his plate, set it on the nightstand, and sat down beside him, gently stroking his face to wake him. "Michael," she whispered, absolutely loving the way his name felt on her tongue. Stroking his cheek again, he turned his face into her palm, and she tilted her head parallel with his and smiled when he took a deep breath and sighed.

"Syd…" he mumbled sleepily, and her heart jumped with the familiarity of her nickname on his lips.

He blinked a couple of times, but his eyelids were still heavy, so she leaned over to kiss his forehead and whispered, "Dinner's here."

"Mmm…" Reaching first one arm around to her back and then the other, he pulled her down until she was lying in his arms again, and she felt him breathing in her hair.

"Michael," she whispered again, thoroughly enjoying the moment. His hand slipped under her hair to her neck and stopped, so she repeated, "Michael? Are you awake?"

She wasn't sure when he didn't move or answer, so she lightly pushed on his chest to look at his face. He was trying to stifle a grin as he looked at her through the tiny openings of his nearly closed eyes, and Sydney smirked. "Hey, don't you want to eat?"

He blinked another time and answered honestly, "Not now," tightening his arms around her again.

Resting her head back into the crook of his neck, Sydney sighed in content, and looked out at the lights illuminating the outline of the Eiffel Tower. "Did you have fun today?" she asked to keep him awake, but quietly enough to keep from breaking the comfortable mood.

"Yes."

"What was your favorite part?"

"Hmm…" she could tell he was seriously thinking about it. "Seeing my house again."

"Do you miss it?"

"Mm-hmm. It's the only home I've ever known. I was _born_ there."

Sydney could see his arrival into the world in her mind, and even pictured the happy faces of his parents. Then, as if it were a movie, she could see what his life might've been like, from an infant to a happy toddler to a playful child, and her mind stopped, lingering on how it really was for him then. "What was your childhood like?"

He shrugged his free shoulder. "Like any others, I suppose. I was a quite mischievous and caused my mother a lot of grief. I'm amazed she continues to choose to live with me," he chuckled at his own joke.

Sydney smiled, "What's the worst thing you did to her?"

"Oh…" he blew out a puff of air. "I used to hide things from her—her favorite things. Her silver, her jewelry—once I even took my father's watch that she used to keep in her armoire, and put it--" he stopped abruptly for a moment, so Sydney leaned up slightly to look at him.

"What's the matter?"

"The vial," he thought out loud. "I had a hiding place in the wall that no one would know about but me. That's probably where I hid the vial."

"You think so?" Sydney asked hopefully.

Vaughn nodded. "I wouldn't have gotten rid of it, or sold it, and it's a likely place for me to have hidden it."

"We could go tomorrow and see if we can find it," she told him.

"Really?" he asked curiously. "That wouldn't be a problem because of the time…?"

"You mean, you think it might ruin the space-time continuum?" She thought about that for a moment. "I don't see how it could. As long as we keep you safe."

"Hmm," he grunted, "Okay." He ran his fingertips down the back of her arm, essentially tickling her.

Sydney tried not to flinch or pull away, and said instead, "We should eat before it gets cold."

"I'm not really hungry."

His arms tightened around her and she could tell that he was content to stay exactly in that place. _But for how long_? she wondered. "Michael," she said softly, her voice laced with regret. "I want to say something…just so that one of us is saying it, okay?" There was so much that she wanted to say, and so much that he should hear, but there wasn't time.

It seemed unfair that time was such a plague on her life. There were years lost to her relationship with her father because of her mother's death; there was time spent at work when she should have been spending it with her friends; there were decades lost to Danny because of her lies followed by the truth he should have known from the beginning. And now Vaughn: a man out of his time, and the one she was quickly falling for, knowing there was only six more days left with him before he would go back to his life, and she would have to go back to hers.

Vaughn didn't answer, waiting for her to speak, so Sydney just forged ahead. "I-I like you…a lot. And I _wish_ we were from the same century," she said dryly, despite the tears building in her eyes, and the lump forming in her throat. "But since we--" she paused, completely unable to say only one of the reasons that they couldn't be a couple, and then she swallowed to be able to continue. "I just want to enjoy you…_us_…being together while we can, okay?"

"As friends," he assumed and Sydney nodded slightly into his chest, moving her hand to her face to wipe away a stray tear.

"It would be too hard to say goodbye if we tried…anything more…" she didn't bother finishing the statement, knowing Vaughn would understand.

There was a long, comfortable moment of silence as they listened to each other breathe, trying not to listen to the almost audible sounds of their hearts breaking. "Why don't we eat now?" he suggested, and Sydney physically relaxed with relief that he understood what she'd been trying to say. So the two then sat up and leaned up against the headboard to eat in bed, planning the final days ahead to make the best of them.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11:**

"It's closed on Wednesdays," Sydney muttered disappointedly as she stared at the sign on the outer door of Vaughn's old estate. She sighed, digging into her inside jacket pocket. "I guess we'll have to do this the old-fashioned way," she smirked, pulling out her lock-picking kit.

Vaughn looked over her shoulder, and saw the tools in her hand. "You're going to break in?"

"Yeah," she shrugged. "Why not?"

"What about alarms? And isn't this wrong?"

"It doesn't seem to be equipped with an alarm system," she answered casually, starting to work on the lock. As they had approached the building, Sydney had taken in everything, and noticed that the security for the estate, if any, was greatly lacking. "Besides, we're not taking anything that isn't rightfully yours anyway. And because they don't even know it's there, it makes it even easier."

The heavy, wood door opened with ease just then, and squeaked on its hinges as it swung into the grand foyer. "See?" she grinned when they noticed that all was quiet, and then they both stepped inside. Looking around at the other rooms that were visible from their position beside the door, Sydney noted, "It doesn't seem to be much of a museum."

"Hmm," Vaughn agreed, leading the way into a living room off to the left. "These are all my family's things. It looks like they've kept them well preserved."

Among his family's treasures, protected behind velvet ropes and some glass cases were artwork and dishes, jewelry and clothing. Vaughn stopped in front of a mannequin wearing an ornate white dress with a high neckline. "My God," he exclaimed. "My mother's wedding dress."

Sydney came to stand beside him and blinked her surprise that it was still in one piece, sheltered behind the protective glass. But she couldn't help but commenting, "It's beautiful. Is she really that thin?"

"Mm-hmm," he nodded and tilted his head, scrutinizing it. "But taller."

She took a deep breath and looked upward toward the artistically hand-carved crown molding around the high ceiling. "We should probably hurry, in case someone comes here regularly," she told him, and he turned with a nod.

It seemed, as they perused the rooms downstairs, that the Vaughns once owned all of the pieces displayed in the meager museum, so he briefly described the more special pieces to Sydney. The back stairs were blocked by yet another velvet rope, but Sydney and Vaughn surpassed it to go upstairs to his old bedroom where the secret compartment was located. It seemed strange to her to stand in the familiar room that she'd been in just a few days before, although a hundred years had passed since then. The room had changed considerably; the effect of not having anyone living in it for quite some time.

Vaughn walked straight to the fireplace and placed his fingers just under the mantle in a strategic position and began pulling against the years and layers of paint that covered it.

Sydney asked, "Are you sure that's--"

"I'm sure," he interrupted, just as the invisible box gave way and opened up like a drawer. She looked over his shoulder curiously and saw several items: the vial they were looking for, a pocket watch, a couple of rings, and a small knife. He smiled triumphantly as he handed Sydney the vial, which she studied for a moment before pocketing it, and then he held up one of the rings. "This was Rambaldi's crest. He used this when keeping correspondence."

Sydney held it, studying the familiar symbol on the flat surface. "On the outside of a letter…with wax, right?"

Vaughn nodded. "I'm sure it wasn't a part of the elaborate scheme he'd created, but it was just something of his that I kept. Along with the dagger," he handed it to her as well. "But you're welcome to have them."

"Thank you," Sydney said, taking them to put them in her pocket as Vaughn pocketed the other ring without explanation, leaving the drawer empty. He walked slowly away toward the balcony, staring at the watch in his hand.

Sydney watched him retreat and then pushed the drawer closed until it was flush with the wall again, and smoothed down the edges so that it would stay hidden. It didn't seem to matter now that the drawer was empty, yet she still wanted it to remain a secret to the outside world.

Creeping out onto the balcony behind Vaughn who was lost in thought, she wondered what was on his mind. She didn't have to wait long when he seemed to sense her presence and started to talk. "It was about ten o'clock when I was last standing here, the night…you came…" he stared off the balcony toward the city as Sydney walked to stand beside him in front of the railing.

He continued, "While I was chasing after you, I checked the time again, and discovered that my watch had stopped." He held the open pocket watch out to her. It still read one minute after ten. "My mother gave this to me on my twenty-first birthday. She said my father wanted me to have it when I became a man. I remember when I was a child, I would hear him say that this watch was so accurate, you could set your heart by it."

His eyes met hers then and he turned slightly to face her. "That night, I was standing here, trying to figure out why my relationship with Elizabeth wasn't what I'd hoped it would be. I didn't realize it at the time, but…I don't love her. I've _never_ loved her like a man should love his wife." He took a step closer to her, shaking his head. "I didn't understand it at the time, but now I know why. Syd--"

"Don't," she stopped him emotionally, when she knew what he was getting at, suddenly realizing that tears had built up in her eyes during his speech. He stepped toward her to continue and she took a step back to keep the distance between them. "Please don't. I can't--" she stopped when a sob choked her. Forcing herself to swallow, she squeezed her eyes shut to rid herself of the tears, and went on, "You live in a different world from me, Vaughn. _Nothing_—no matter how much we _want_ it to—can change that." She turned to go back into the house and whispered, "I'll wait for you downstairs," before leaving him alone.

Sydney tried to hold her head high as she left the balcony and entered Vaughn's old bedroom again, but by the time she reached the hall, she was crying. What he'd said was the most personal thing she'd heard him admit. _He doesn't love Elizabeth_, her mind repeated, and she felt her heart tighten in her chest. What would he have said if she hadn't stopped him? That he was falling for her as much as she was for him? And if that were true, what in the world could they do about it? Vaughn was going back in five days to his life, his fiancé that he didn't love, and his destiny; his future that countless others were depending on. And Sydney would have to stay and face the dangerous existence of her life as a double agent; with only memories of the few blissful days she spent with a man from the past that she was beginning to love. 

She swiped at the tears that had fallen on her cheeks and began looking around at the house to get her mind off of her budding feelings for Vaughn. There were painted portraits of Vaughn's family on the walls of the hallway above the main staircase, and Sydney focused on them in order to keep her emotions in check. Each one was labeled with the name of the head of each family. Stoic, respectful faces stared back at her, and Sydney could see the family resemblance to Vaughn in each of them.

She paused when she reached Michael's immediate family portrait of his mother and father and him as a child, probably at about eight years old. His green eyes were emphasized, and Sydney felt like they were almost haunting; to the point that she was momentarily mesmerized. Eventually, she moved on to the next painting down the stairs, and saw an empty space on the wall a few feet away. Stopping in front of the blank spot, she read the plaque, felt her chest constrict, and yelled, "Michael!"

Vaughn was busy leaning on the railing and berating himself for almost confessing to Sydney how much he felt for her when he heard her yell his name. He practically ran out of the room, through the hall, and down the stairs toward her. "What's the matter?" he asked as he looked at her, staring as if she'd seen a ghost.

She simply pointed to the plague that read '_Michel Vaughn et famille_'.

His face paled as he realized that a portrait of his future family usually hung in that spot. "Where is it?" he asked breathlessly, and Sydney shook her head.

"It must be in repair." She ran her fingers over the words on the plaque and felt sick to her stomach. It was obviously a picture of him and Elizabeth, or whomever he married, and their children. She was so jealous of the mystery woman, and yet a little glad that she wouldn't get to see what she looked like. It was bad enough knowing he would eventually move on, but to have a picture of his wife in her mind would be hard to live with after he would go home.

Slowly, Sydney finished descending the stairs to leave, and get as far away from the missing painting, Vaughn's house, and the conversation that still lingered in the air on that balcony.

As they quietly walked back to the hotel, both of them tried to think of something to say to break the silence, but it wasn't until Vaughn stopped in front of a pastry shop's window near their hotel, and he asked if they could go in to get something, that Sydney felt like the tension was eased a little. She dug into her pocket for a handful of Euros and handed them to him, saying, "Here, help yourself," she said politely. "I'm going to go on to the room. Can you get back okay?"

He nodded, "Yes, of course."

He watched her walk away, noticing that her shoulders were slumped a little, and he turned to look at the pastry shop beside him. In the window's reflection, he saw something else that he realized would be even better, and might mend the rift between them that he'd caused with his near confession.

Sydney sat on the edge of the bed in their room, looking out of the window at the city, and then glanced at the single door that opened onto the balcony. They had yet to open the door and venture out because it had been too cold of late, and since the days were getting warmer, she thought now was as good a time as any to check it out. Opening the door with a gentle push, she was flooded with the smells and sounds of the city below and stepped out to greet them. She leaned over the railing for a moment, looking for Vaughn, but when she didn't see him anywhere, she sat down on one of the chairs sitting next to the small patio table.

She was depressed. That was the only way she could describe it. Since Danny's untimely death, she'd been avoiding life and her friends, taking risks, driving her health into the ground in order to destroy a criminal and his organization, and essentially enact revenge for her fiancé's murder. And in just the last few days, she was beginning to live again; to feel what it was like to laugh and enjoy life and all it had to offer. Vaughn was the first to make her feel that way in months. Dixon, her father, Will and Francie—they'd all tried to bring her back out of her shell, but it had been fruitless, until she met Vaughn.

Her phone rang, snapping her out of her reverie, and she ran back inside to get it. It was Francie. "Hey, I was just thinking about you," she told her friend as she slowly wondered back out to the balcony again.

"How's Paris? And more importantly, how's _Monsieur_ Vaughn?"

Despite her friend's joking mood, Sydney had a hard time keeping the disappointment out of her voice. "He's…good," she said understatedly. "He's downstairs right now, buying some pastries."

"So, tell me about this guy. Is he cute? Like hot cute?"

Sydney grinned, picturing Vaughn's handsome face in her mind. "Yeah, he is. Very cute."

"And he's single?"

"Not…really. He has a fiancé."

"Oh, well he's not married yet. There's still hope."

"Not much," Sydney muttered, making Francie ask her to repeat herself. Sydney shook her head. "Nothing."

"Syd, are you okay? You sound really down."

"I'm fine. I'm just a little…homesick, I guess."

"You're getting _tired_ of _Paris_? How is that possible?"

"No, it's…it's great, I'm just…" her voice trailed off when she realized she didn't have a logical excuse to use for her depression, without telling her best friend the whole truth. Fortunately, Vaughn chose to knock on the door to be let in at that moment, and Sydney told her, "I have to go, Fran. Someone's here. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

Sighing to prepare herself as she put the phone away, she opened the door and found Vaughn on the other side with a handful of white tulips. She stared at him and the flowers, feeling her wide eyes stinging. "I came to ask for forgiveness," he explained, extending the flowers to her.

Sydney took them and automatically stepped back to let him in and then closed the door behind him, all the while staring at the tulips in her hand. "They're beautiful," she whispered hoarsely, blinking back even more tears.

Vaughn shoved his hands into his pockets. "I was wrong earlier, or maybe you misunderstood me—either way, I owe you an apology. My intentions in telling you about my…feelings for Elizabeth, were only in an effort to thank you."

Sydney's head snapped up to look at him curiously.

He continued, "Before I met you, I had no idea what my future held, or why I was apprehensive about marrying her, but now it's been made clear to me. I am more certain about what to do than ever before and I want to thank you for helping me to make my decision."

Dropping her eyes to the floor, Sydney nodded solemnly. She must've just imagined what she thought he was admitting at his old house. "Oh. Um," she swallowed her nervousness. "You're welcome then…I guess."

He looked past her into the room. "I was wondering if maybe we could enjoy the time we have left like we discussed earlier?"

"Sure," Sydney agreed, feeling the anxiety ease quite a bit. "How about if we eat dinner on the balcony tonight?"

Vaughn smiled his acceptance and as Sydney turned to add the tulips to the other flower arrangement on the mantel, he silently sighed. His plan had worked, although he hated himself for lying to her. On the balcony at his estate, he was mere words from admitting that he was falling in love with her; and that his father's watch spoke volumes about how his heart had stopped at the same moment it did; the moment they first laid eyes on each other.

But the confession would have only hurt more than anything, he'd realized when she'd stopped him and started to cry. He was certain that letting her believe that he was merely thankful for meeting her would be better in the long run; for her and for himself when the time came to say goodbye forever.

"Why is it that you know English so fluently? I mean, you don't even have much of a French accent," Sydney asked over dinner, as thunder rolled across the sky.

"Hmm," he quirked, wiping his mouth on his napkin. "I spent much of my childhood in America when my mother would go over to visit with relatives in New York."

"Oh yeah?"

"You seem surprised."

She shrugged. "I guess I just pictured you as a homebody. Someone who wouldn't stray far from home."

"No, I've traveled extensively, but…Paris was always and will always be my home."

Sydney nodded and took another bite of food.

"What about you?" he asked. "Have you always lived in Los Angeles?"

"Mm-hmm," she answered and then swallowed to explain. "But my job takes me to every corner of the earth. I think there are only a handful of countries that I haven't been in."

"That must be exciting."

"It is sometimes." She turned her gaze to the scene below in the dusk light and saw a young family playing near a fountain with their young son, holding his hands and swinging him into the air. "And sometimes I wish I could just walk away from it all and have my own life," she said softly.

Vaughn followed her gaze to see what she was looking at and then turned back to her. His voice was gentle, "You…you want a family?"

"Yeah," she nodded and then turned to look at him and then back at her plate, trying to hide the blush that was creeping into her cheeks. "It's nice knowing _you're_ going to have that, isn't it?"

"Mm, yes," he partly lied. A family with Elizabeth didn't really sound appealing, but he didn't want to admit that to Sydney and start another one of those conversations.

Sydney looked to the sky when there was another soft rumble of thunder, and inhaled the cold, sweet scent of the coming weather. "It's going to rain," she stated the obvious.

Vaughn sat staring at her upturned face, her eyes closed as she enjoyed the feeling of the change of the weather. In his mind, he could see himself rising out of his chair, walking to stand in front of her, running his fingers under her hair to rest on her neck, and bending to kiss those full, beautiful lips. He shook his head to clear his mind, and asked, "What did we have planned for tomorrow?"

She lifted her head again and looked over at him, "The Louvre, remember?"

"Ah, yes," he nodded. "We won't need the black masks this time, I hope."

She laughed and answered, "No, we definitely won't."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12:**

Sydney was really getting too used to waking up in Vaughn's arms. That Thursday morning, they were facing each other when her eyes opened; she was just an inch from his _bare_ chest, comfortably snuggled up against him, feeling her own breath bouncing off of him and back into her face. She stifled a sleepy grin, but didn't want to move and lose the rare moment.

She briefly wondered what had happened to his t-shirt, considering he would never take it off in front of her, but given her position and the fact that he was still asleep, she decided to take the opportunity to give him the once over and check him out.

His chest was gorgeous, muscular, built to perfection in her opinion, and had just enough hair to be attractive. Moving slowly to keep from waking him, she gently pulled back a little to get a better look at the rest of him and noticed his stomach was just as tight; the lines of his muscular six-pack showing through even as he was relaxed in sleep. Her eyes traveled lustily back up to his chest where she moved closer and pressed her warm lips against the dip in the center in a chaste kiss, and she smiled slightly when Vaughn's arm pulled her tighter as he felt the brief contact. She then looked up to his arm draped over her waist and took in his nicely built shoulders and arms, and she actually quietly sighed with the long-lost feeling of content in a man's embrace.

Laying in that position reminded her of her two-year relationship with Danny, and how she would love to cuddle up to his bare chest and enjoy his body, so much so that she would often strip him of his t-shirt in her sleep—

Sydney panicked when she suddenly realized what had happened to Vaughn's shirt, and instantly felt the need to flee when he started to stir and wake up. 

Vaughn's eyes opened just as Sydney closed the bathroom door behind her, and he sat up, curiously glancing down to his naked chest. He furrowed his eyebrows as he searched for his shirt, and found it casually tossed on the floor. He felt ashamed of himself for somehow losing the shirt and making her feel uncomfortable enough to make her run away from him. But it was _Sydney_ that was blushing furiously when she reemerged several minutes later and faced him.

Vaughn was standing between her and the bed after replacing his shirt and he looked up to her and tried to think of an apology. But she was the one that started talking first. "I'm…" she paused and swallowed nervously. "I'm sorry…about…your-your shirt. It's an old habit…with…Danny… I…_apparently_," she gestured to him, "…still…do it in my sleep…"

Suddenly Vaughn understood as he glanced down at his now covered chest. "Oh," he looked back up at her. "I thought _I_…" he stopped and shook his head empathetically. "It's…okay."

After the initial embarrassment of the whole t-shirt incident wore off, Sydney and Vaughn both managed to get ready and leave to make the most of the day they were going to spend at the Louvre. And they did.

Passing by statues and gold pieces, artifacts and paintings, they admired each one, and by lunchtime, they realized that it _would_ in fact take at least two days to see everything. They took a break, and walked around outside for a while until they found a street vendor selling baguette sandwiches and sat on a bench to eat.

Once their hunger was satisfied, they went back to the museum to pick up where they'd left off. It was near late afternoon when Sydney stopped in front of a painting that made her mouth drop open in shock. Without saying a word to Vaughn, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and called Francie's cell phone and waited for her to answer. When she did, Sydney said, "Fran, remember that painting you tried to reproduce for our art class junior year?"

"Oh, God, yes. That one that ended up looking like a frog being eaten by a petunia?"

Sydney grinned, reliving the memory. "You're not going to believe this, but I'm standing in front of the original _right now_ at the Louvre."

"No way!" she exclaimed and then passed the information on to Will, who was somewhere in the background.

"Where are you?" Sydney asked Francie curiously.

"Actually, Will and I are at your house right now."

Sydney let out a quiet, "Oh," as Francie rushed to explain, "I kind of moved all of my stuff into your place. I hope you don't mind."

"No, of course not, sweetie. Is everything okay?"

"Well, it's okay, but I _dumped_ Charlie."

"What??"

"Yeah, Will saw him at school with this other woman, and when I confronted him about it, he didn't deny it, the jerk."

"Oh, Fran, I'm so sorry."

"I'm not. He just wasn't worth it. The good news is, I left him with a nice-sized bruise on his arm that I'm sure he won't forget for a while."

Sydney stifled a laugh as she heard Will yell in the background, "How's Vaughn??"

She looked over at Vaughn who was still watching her. "Tell him I said he's good," she answered somewhat honestly. "We only have a few more days left, so we're making the best of them."

"Then we'll get to meet him, right?" Francie asked. "I mean, I assume you'll be bringing him home with you at some point?"

Sydney hesitated lying yet again. "I-I don't know. We'll see," she finally lied just to get it over with.

She sat down next to Vaughn as Francie asked, "Has he planned to dump the fiancé yet?"

She met Vaughn's eyes, hoping he hadn't heard the question. "I don't know," she repeated and shyly dropped her gaze to the floor. "I'll talk to you later, Fran. Tell Will I love him."

"I will, Syd. Love you."

"Love you too."

Vaughn was quiet as she hung up the phone, and when she asked if he was ready to continue on their self-tour, he simply nodded and stood to follow her.

It was nearly fifteen minutes later, when they entered the beautiful stone courtyard, called Cour Puget and Sydney was looking upward toward the glass pyramid above them that Vaughn asked what was on his mind. "Do you always…tell your friends that you love them?"

Sydney turned to look at him beside her and nodded slightly. "Yeah, I guess so. They're closer than family to me."

"Oh," he nodded, but Sydney sensed that he was still a little confused.

"Does that seem weird to you?" He shrugged without really answering, so she took a step closer and asked, "Haven't you…ever told _anyone_ you love them on a regular basis?"

"My mother," he replied automatically, but he didn't add any others.

She took yet another step closer, completely stunned at what she was hearing. "And you've never said it to _anyone_ else?"

He shrugged slightly. "I suppose it might seem unusual, but I've never _wanted_ to say it to anyone else until--" he stopped abruptly with the word '_now_' on his lips, as he looked deeply into her eyes.

Sydney was mesmerized, locked in his gaze as she had been with the portrait of the younger version of Vaughn the day before, and waited for some sort of protest to what she could feel was happening between them to come to her mind. But it didn't. In fact, any thoughts of denying what he was offering her with those smoldering eyes, vanished when he lifted his hand to her jaw, and stroked her cheek with his thumb. "Syd," he whispered as he started to lean in close to her. She simply closed her eyes and kept her head tilted back as she waited unthinkingly for his lips to reach hers. There was not one rational thought on her mind as she waited impatiently to feel what it would be like to kiss him, and when she felt the warmth of his breath on her lips, she mentally cursed when her phone rang, breaking the moment.

Vaughn pulled away in disappointment, and she dropped her head and sighed frustratedly. Slipping the offensive ringing object out of her pocket, she pushed the button to answer it. Her voice was shaky, and she took a step away from Vaughn to hopefully regain some strength in her legs.

It was her father on the phone, and he asked about the vial. "I dead-dropped it this morning, Dad," she felt like whining in annoyance as she turned away from Vaughn.

"Oh," he answered understatedly, making Sydney curious.

"Is that really why you called?"

Her father finally admitted, "Actually…I was wondering how you're doing…with Vaughn."

_I was just about to find out_, her mind involuntarily thought, and she was glad that she didn't say it out loud. "I'm fine. I told you that if I needed help, I would ask."

"I know, Sydney. I'm just…worried about you."

Sydney felt the warm feeling of her father's concern wash over her, as she kept her back to Vaughn. "Thank you, Daddy," she spoke like a child. "But I promise you that I'm okay."

He made her promise again to call if she needed anything before they hung up, and she turned to look for Vaughn as she put it away again. She found him facing the other direction, staring down at the dirt around a potted tree in the courtyard. "Michael…I'm sorry," she said to his back, and he slowly turned to look at her.

His eyes were warm with feeling as he shook his head and said softly, "Not as much as I am."

Despite the solemn mood after the near-kiss, they managed to enjoy the rest of the afternoon. And when they were tired of touring the museum a couple of hours later, they went back to the hotel, and ordered some dinner in to eat on the balcony again. Because they had planned to spend Friday night out on a ferry tour of the Seine followed by dinner at an expensive restaurant—mostly so that they could make use of his suit and her dress—they were saving up for that.

After dinner, Sydney sauntered over to the bench that sat on the other end of the balcony from the table while Vaughn called room service to have them come clear the dishes. Despite all of the walking they did that day, Sydney didn't feel too tired and instead felt utterly relaxed; maybe even more than she had in years. 

Believing that that day had been the most enjoyable so far, Sydney relived each moment in her mind, lingering the most on Vaughn's smiles and those few tense moments in the courtyard when she and Vaughn had been just a second away from kissing. Presently, her eyes were closed as she remembered how close he'd been during those seconds, and how much she'd wanted to kiss him, when he came out on the balcony to join her.

Sydney automatically smiled and sat up straighter so he could fit beside her on the bench, and he lifted his arm over her shoulders as she leaned into him. Several minutes ticked by in silence as Sydney curled her feet up under her and they enjoyed the sounds of the city nightlife below.

Hearing the sound of an accordion playing somewhere in the distance, Sydney lifted her head slightly. "Do you hear that?" she whispered to Vaughn, and then she felt rather than heard, his short, grunted answer in his chest against her cheek.

She relaxed again and closed her eyes to listen to the soft music dancing on the light breeze around them, until she felt Vaughn's hand on her cheek. "Look," he said quietly, pointing down below them.

Sydney lifted her head again to see what he was talking about, and noticed a young couple dancing beside the fountain to the same music, completely oblivious to anyone watching them. She smiled at the picture of the two people who were obviously very much in love with each other, and suddenly felt a little envious. "…Beautiful," she whispered softly.

Vaughn stroked her arm with one hand, and Sydney closed her eyes again as his other hand reached into his jacket pocket. "Sydney," he began as if he were starting a long speech, "I don't…want to go back, but I know I have to." He paused and hugged her as his hand reemerged from his pocket. "I-I want to give you something…to remember me by."

Sitting up to see what he was talking about, she could tell by the look in his eyes that he was sincere, and then looked down at his hands to see the ring he'd taken from his hiding place in his family's home. It was a gorgeous gold ring with a large pearl surrounded by small diamonds.

As he held it out to her, Sydney protested, "Oh Vaughn," she breathed, "I can't take this."

"I want you to have it--"

"But it's too much," she argued. 

"I insist," he disputed. "Please."

"But, it's special to you—your _family_. You should give that to…the…the woman you marry." She had to swallow the jealousy she suddenly felt.

"I want _you_ to have it," he repeated, defiantly reaching for her right hand. "It's a gift."

Against her protests and better judgment, Sydney allowed him to put it on her ring finger and sat starting at how it looked on her. It was just the right size, and Sydney solemnly felt like it fit perfectly in more ways than just one.

She wondered whose it was, but she was too afraid to ask, knowing it was probably a family heirloom that she shouldn't keep. Maybe she could give it to Weiss after Vaughn was gone, she determined, to make herself feel a little less guilty for accepting it. That way, Vaughn would never know what she'd done with it, and she wouldn't have to deal with the heartache of giving it back to him before he left.

"Th-thank you," she choked out amidst the sobs that had formed in her throat as she relaxed again.

Vaughn pulled her back and hugged her close, remembering the day that his grandmother had given him the ring before she'd died, and explained how important it was that he give it to the woman he loved—which didn't necessarily mean he had to give it to his wife. Looking to the woman in his arms, and seeing the ring on her perfect hand resting against his chest, he realized without any guilt or regret that he had finally fulfilled his promise.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13:**

Shortly after the accordion music had died down, Sydney pried herself from Vaughn's arms and walked back to the room to prepare for bed. "Do you want to go back to the Louvre tomorrow?" Vaughn's voice stopped her as she reached the door, and Sydney looked back and scrunched her face in thought.

"You know, I think I've actually had enough art for one trip. How about we see something else?" She looked over the railing at the lighted Eiffel Tower. "We haven't been up to the Tower yet-- In fact, have you _ever_ seen the view from up there?"

"No," he shook his head. "I had never been up before…that night," he admitted, slightly disappointed that he was once again bringing up the raw subject of the leap through time that had occurred.

But Sydney was avoiding that as well. "Good," she said lightly. "Then it's a date." Choosing to ignore the intimacy of her own words, she went into the bathroom as Vaughn answered the door when Pierre came to pick up the dishes. The two men were still exchanging friendly banter when Sydney reemerged from the bathroom in her pajamas several minutes later.

"What was that all about?" Sydney asked as Vaughn closed the door when the other man left.

"Oh, uh, Pierre," he gestured to the door, "wanted me to meet his sister."

Jealousy started in Sydney's chest and traveled outward, reaching all the way down to her toes, and for once, she was actually _glad_ that Vaughn was from another time and couldn't take Pierre up on his offer. "What'd you say?" she tried to remain lighthearted about it.

"I told him I was engaged."

"Oh," Sydney nodded, berating herself. _He's engaged—of course he would say he's engaged_. She turned to look at the bed and sighed, not really wanting to curl up next to him and go to sleep at the moment. "You know what? I think I'm going to sit out on the balcony for a little while longer."

Fifteen minutes later, Sydney was still stewing from his trite comment about his engagement as she sat on the bench and watched the city nightlife below slowly die down. She was just thinking about what she would've said had the situation been reversed when Vaughn's voice interrupted her thoughts. "It was the only thing I could think to say."

She turned to look up at him in the doorway. "What?" she asked; slightly confused.

He took a step out toward her. "I wanted to tell Pierre the truth so that he would understand why I was turning down his offer to meet his sister, but I knew I wasn't able to." Sydney nodded and looked down at her hands in her lap, wondering just exactly what 'truth' he was talking about. But she was too afraid to find out, fearing that it might be what she hoped it was.

Vaughn shrugged and continued to explain. "Telling him I was engaged…" his words dissipated and he tried again, "It was the only time that my engagement has been a convenience."

Her head snapped back up to see if she completely understood what he meant by that this time and she was met by his soft gaze that made her melt inside. Feeling tears burning her eyes, she dropped her feet to the floor, sat up straighter, and willed herself to smile. "Come here," she told him, holding out her hand.

Obediently walking toward her, he sat down beside her and she curled up against him again as he wrapped his arm back around her. "I'm going to miss you," she admitted, and he hugged her closer.

"I'll miss you too."

Sydney relaxed against him as Vaughn considered what he'd said to her, and to Pierre. The man had asked about meeting his sister, but Vaughn had said no, that he was engaged and Pierre had profusely apologized, believing that _Sydney_ was in fact his fiancé. Vaughn had told him she was his business associate the first night that the two men had set up the dinner table in their room as a surprise for Sydney, so Pierre was slightly surprised.

"_I guess you never said that she __**wasn't**__ your fiancé, did you?_" Pierre had laughed at his own folly, and Vaughn had just smiled noncommittally.

_What could it hurt to let him believe that Sydney is my fiancé and not someone else?_ he'd considered. Besides, he could live with the warm feeling it gave him to think of her that way.

Currently, he smiled when he realized Sydney had fallen asleep, and when she began to shiver, pulling her body as close as she could get to him to keep warm, he decided it was time to go inside. Slipping out from under her and holding her to keep her from falling, he stood up and lifted her into his arms to carry her back into the room.

Sydney automatically wrapped her arms around him and buried her face into his neck as he stepped back inside. He leaned over her side of the bed and gently laid her down, and then worked to get the blankets out from under her. She stirred slightly and smiled as he covered her up. "Thank you," she whispered and he kissed her forehead as she quickly fell back asleep.

After turning off the lights in the room, he slipped between the sheets on his side of the bed, and then scooted up against her back and wrapped his arm around her waist. Resting his chin in that hollow spot on her neck, he whispered as softly as he could, "_I love you, Sydney Bristow._"

Sydney collapsed to lie on her back on the bed within seconds of entering their room and was quickly followed by Vaughn beside her. "Tell me again why I wanted us to take the stairs on the Eiffel Tower, both up _and_ down?" she asked tiredly.

"I don't know," he shook his head, smiling. "But you said something about 'good exercise'."

"I think I'm definitely a masochist," she mumbled, closing her eyes. About halfway up, she'd realized what a bad idea it was, but convinced herself that she was getting out of shape with all of the sightseeing and no daily workouts like she would normally participate in at home, so that seemed to make it worth it. And she thought going down would be easier, but they just ended up working out the back of their legs.

"Are you still going to take a bath before lunch?" She'd mentioned that as well on their endless climb up the stairs.

"Mm-hmm," she grunted, but she didn't move from her spot.

Vaughn watched her as she fell asleep again from his spot beside her, and made a snap decision. Going into the bathroom, he started the water in the tub and dropped some of the bath salts into the water, and waited for the tub to fill up. He then turned off the water, and went back into the room to wake her up.

She batted his hand away from her shoulder at first, but when he said the word "bath", she woke up a little more in surprise and let him sit her up. Helping her to stand when she still seemed overtired, he guided her into the bathroom.

Sydney's eyes widened in shock when she saw the tub already prepared for her. "Vaughn…I…I didn't _really_ need to take a bath until tonight…"

He just smiled, although he looked slightly embarrassed that he'd gone to the trouble when she apparently had only been kidding.

Sydney saw his turmoil and instead turned to hug him. "Thank you so much," she said over his shoulder. "You're a sweetheart."

Sydney was standing with Vaughn by a flower stand after lunch as he pointed out different flowers and their meanings. "Whatever flower you like says a lot about your personality," he told her, and waited for her to name her favorites.

"Hmm…well, I like roses of course, but I think my favorite would have to be daisies."

He nodded knowingly. "Innocence. It suits you. Although I would have chosen hibiscus for you," he said, pulling one of the flowers from the bin to show it to her.

"Why?" she asked curiously. "What do they mean?"

"'Delicate beauty,'" he answered, reaching out to lightly touch her cheek, and they locked eyes for a moment.

Sydney broke the eye contact by turning to the hibiscus between them, and took it from him to smell it before she put it back. "So tell me, what _do_ the roses mean?"

"Well, they vary by color," he was able to focus again on the conversation. "White is purity," he pointed, "yellow is zealous, pink is friendship, and red is passionate love."

Just then, someone suddenly called her name, and Sydney turned and immediately blanched when she recognized the man approaching them. "Noah?" she blurted in shock.

The other man grinned that sexy grin that Sydney had always loved when they had been dating years before. "What are you doing here?" she asked him, noting that he was casually holding his suit jacket in his hand.

"I'm…working," he answered easily, and then looked between her and Vaughn; who was now looking between the two with a slightly possessive look on his face. "What about you? Are you on vacation?"

"Not…exactly," she glanced at Vaughn. "This is Michel Vaughn. He's…a…a client. Sloane is having me…entertain him for a few days." She hoped that that hadn't sounded sexual by any means.

Fortunately, Noah simply nodded as she turned to Vaughn and introduced him as well and the two men shook hands. "So what are you working on?" Sydney asked him as the trio turned to walk back outside. Since his abrupt departure five years earlier, Sydney had no clue what he'd been up to.

"A little of everything," he answered, casting a cursory glance at Vaughn. It was obvious he wasn't going to disclose too much in front of a stranger, not knowing exactly how much of the spy trade he may or may not know. "You're still working for Sloane?"

"Mm-hmm," she answered, when in truth she was gritting her teeth. "But…a lot of things have changed." Fortunately, Vaughn knew to keep his mouth shut about what she'd told him, as if he knew about protocol and disclosure. In fact, so far, he seemed to fit right in to the spy trade naturally, and Sydney felt like he would be a great partner—probably even better than Noah had been because she didn't think Vaughn would leave without warning.

"So, are you…busy tonight?" Noah asked, interrupting her perusal over Vaughn's characteristics compared to Noah's. "Can we have dinner, maybe? At Au Sauvignon?"

Sydney looked from Noah to Vaughn. "Well, I don't think so…we have…plans, so…"

"It's okay," Vaughn nodded, not wanting to stand in her way. "If you want to have dinner with Mr. Hicks, Sydney, you can."

"Thank you, Vaughn," Noah answered for her, but Sydney protested.

"No, we can have dinner tomorrow night--"

Noah was shaking his head. "I leave tomorrow afternoon."

"Oh. Well maybe some other time then?" She was determined not to choose Noah over Vaughn after the way he'd left without a word. She was still pretty bitter about it, although she probably would never have admitted it out loud to anyone else, or to Noah unless he brought it up first.

"Syd," Noah said, touching her elbow. "I really think we should talk since we have the chance. There are things that need to be said." Well, that pretty much summed it up. He definitely wanted to have the conversation that they'd needed to have for the past five years, before he left Paris this weekend. She might as well get it over with.

She looked from Noah's pleading eyes that she used to never be able to resist, to Vaughn's warm and understanding ones. "I can order room service," Vaughn told her softly, in order to keep her from feeling obligated to him.

"Are you sure?" she asked once more to ease the guilt she felt.

"I'll be alright. I'll change the reservations to tomorrow."

"I guess it's all set then," Noah said, gently claiming her arm to start to pull her the other direction. "We'll see you later, Vaughn."

Sydney watched and wondered if Vaughn would be okay to get back by himself, and Vaughn nodded as if to say he'd be fine, so she allowed Noah to lead her away.

Vaughn did as he said he would and went back to the room, changed the reservations, ordered some food, and tried not to think about the intimate way that that Hicks character had looked at Sydney. He didn't know their history, but he knew it must've been close at some point; by the way Sydney didn't flinch at the other man's touch. But, underneath the somewhat polite manner of Hicks, and the friendly way Sydney accepted Noah, Vaughn could tell that Hicks was obviously up to no good, and he only could hope that Sydney would soon see that too.

When there was a knock at the door, Vaughn found it hard to believe that he'd been stewing about the other man long enough for the food to arrive without his even noticing that that much time had passed. Pierre was surprised when Vaughn opened the door and the waiter said in French, "Where's your fiancé?"

"Oh, she's…" He shook his head and sighed. "Well, she's not exactly my fiancé."

Surprisingly, Pierre nodded as if he already knew. "Ah, I see. You're in love with her, but she doesn't know it yet?"

"Something like that."

"And you're eating _alone_ in your room tonight?"

"Yes. She's…having dinner with an old friend."

"Ah. A female friend?"

"No."

Pierre looked at him suspiciously. "And you're okay with that?"

Vaughn dropped his eyes to the floor. "No, not really," he admitted.

The other man asked, "Do you know where they're eating?"

Vaughn thought for a moment. "He mentioned Au Sauvignon."

"Ah," Pierre's eyes lit up. "I know the place well." He looked at his watch. "I get off in about fifteen minutes. I'll take you there."

"Oh, no," Vaughn argued. "You don't have to do that."

"Do you trust this man with her?"

Vaughn thought about that, and forced himself to be honest. "No, I don't," he shook his head.

Pierre's voice was determined. "Then you have to _fight_ for her."


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N: Tried to fix something and ended up having to delete and repost the last 4 chapters. Sorry about that! I will be posting 4 chapters a day until the stories are finished. Thanks for your patience! And enjoy!_

**Chapter 14:**

Noah asked about Vaughn before they were even seated at their table outside the trendy restaurant at sunset, before the Eiffel Tower was lit for the night. Sydney told him most of the truth; that Vaughn's family was one of the wealthiest in the area, and that his father had been a successful inventor and an avid, yet amateur archaeologist. She added that SD-6 was looking for financial backing, and she was acting as liaison to convince him.

She knew the fact of his wealth was true, because Weiss had told her that he and all of his cousins had inherited quite a sizeable trust fund when they turned twenty-one thanks to what was left of the Vaughn fortune.

"So, he's rich?" Noah asked her.

"I guess you could say that," she shrugged, looking down at her salad to load her fork.

"Are you sleeping with him?"

Sydney was taken aback by his abrupt question and nearly choked on her bite of food. She had to chew and force herself to swallow to answer. "No, I'm not," she wiped her mouth with her napkin, "although I don't see how that's any of your business. Especially since _you_ were the one that chose to leave five years ago." _Might as well put all the cards on the table at once_, she thought.

Noah was shaking his head and began to argue that he _had_ left word, and tried to get her to go with him, but that _she_ never showed up. They argued until it became clear that there was a misunderstanding that had occurred, and that Sydney had never received his e-mail asking to meet him in San Pedro, all the while _she_ had thought he'd left without a word.

With that misunderstanding cleared up, the tension in the air was palpable, and it took several minutes and the serving of their dinner before they could even make small talk.

The appearance of Vaughn behind Noah as they finished their dinner was almost a welcome sight, but Sydney didn't know how she'd feel with the two men in the same vicinity. "Vaughn, what are you doing here?" she asked, eyeing the room service guy from their hotel suspiciously. She gestured to Pierre, "And what--?"

Vaughn interrupted to explain, "He's keeping me company. You remember Pierre?"

"Bon soir," he said with a slight, courteous bow, and Sydney politely returned the gesture with a nod.

"Would you like to sit down?" Noah asked, surprising Sydney a little bit. She thought he'd have been offended that Vaughn was butting in to their dinner, but then she realized that Noah probably wanted the opportunity to size him up as much as Vaughn wanted to do to him.

Vaughn thanked him and he and Pierre grabbed chairs from neighboring tables to seat themselves between Sydney and Noah. Noah started the line of questions with, "So, Sydney tells me that you were born here in Paris?"

"Yes."

"I see. So you're French? You speak French?"

"Yes. You?"

"Mm-hmm," he nodded. "I know several languages fluently, including French."

"Oh, really? So do I." Vaughn decided to test Noah's knowledge. "La lune est aussi grand qu'un oeil de l'éléphant. (The moon is as big as an elephant's eye.)"

Sydney and Pierre both looked at each other humorously, but Vaughn and Noah didn't break eye contact as they stared each other down.

"Cela ne fait pas de sens. (That doesn't make any sense.)" He paused, and then asked, "¿Habla español?"

Vaughn didn't miss a beat. "Sí. Y siete otros. ¿Puede adivinar usted cuál unos? (Yes. And seven others. Can you guess which ones?)"

"Zeker niet Nederlands. (Surely not Dutch.)"

"Mijn grootmoeder was Nederlands. (My grandmother was Dutch.)." He switched to Italian to change the subject as well. "Che sono le sue intenzioni con Sydney? (What are your intentions with Sydney?)"

"Non è affare Suo. (None of your business.)" Noah started in German, "Versuchen Sie, sie für sich zu behalten? (Are you trying to keep her for yourself?)"

"Wenigstens weiß ich, das _meine_ Absichten ehrenwert sind. (At least I know _my_ intentions are honorable.)

"Okay," Sydney slammed her hand down on the table and stood up to get their attention, knowing every word that was spoken between them. Vaughn immediately stood with her, followed by Pierre, and then Noah as she explained, "I've had enough male chauvinism for one night. I am not an object, and I am not a prize that you two are trying to win, so stop it."

"Syd, I'm sorry," Noah tried as Vaughn looked down in shame. "We'll stop. Just sit back down with us please?"

She shook her head. "Right now, I don't want to be around either of you."

Without another word, the three of them watched as she turned and walked away. Vaughn felt like an idiot, but he turned to Noah to get his final point across and he didn't mince any words. "I want you to know that if you hurt her, I promise you that you will answer to me."

"I wouldn't worry about that if I were you. I would never hurt Sydney, and she knows that."

"Then as long as we understand each other, there shouldn't be a problem."

Sydney walked around for several hours after that, trying to sort things out. On the one hand, she was glad to find out that her break-up with Noah had been a misunderstanding, and that he still wanted to be with her, but on the other, she knew she had uncontrolled feelings for Vaughn, even though she _knew_ it couldn't possibly be meant to be between them.

_What should I do?_ she asked herself the question for the thirtieth time as she walked back toward the hotel. Once inside the lobby, she sighed when Noah stood up from one of the chairs.

He held up a hand when she opened her mouth to ask him to leave her alone. "Just so you know, Vaughn and I worked things out so that we'll get along now. And we agreed for both of us to have lunch with you tomorrow as friends, if that's okay with you."

Sydney slowly nodded at the idea, feeling as though it were an answer, if even only an answer to her lunch plans for the next day. "Okay," she agreed.

Noah grinned in response, and for the first time since she first laid eyes on him at SD-6, her heart didn't skip a beat seeing his smile. "I'll see you tomorrow then," he told her, and then kissed her on the cheek with a "goodnight" as he left the hotel.

Sydney crept into the quiet hotel room, lighted only by the bathroom light, to find Vaughn already asleep with a note in his hand, resting on her pillow. She walked over and slipped the paper from between his fingers, and quietly went into the bathroom to read it in the light. It read:

I am more sorry than I can say about my behavior this evening. I only hope you can forgive me and that we may still enjoy our tour of the Seine and dinner tomorrow night.

Sydney had to force herself to keep from smiling as she hurried to get ready for bed, and then entering the bedroom again, she paused and smiled at Vaughn's sleeping face. His hand was still draped across her spot, as if he were waiting for her to come, and his other arm was tucked under his pillow.

He looked so much like a little boy, and yet so much like a wise man, that Sydney felt lucky just to know him. She pictured that lazy grin of his, where only one side of his face would curve up, and before she knew it, her heart was pounding with exhilaration just _thinking_ about his smile, much stronger than it ever had with Noah when he was happy with her, or even Danny. Her feelings for Vaughn were definitely something she had never experienced before.

She climbed into bed next to him then, loving the comfortable way his arm automatically slipped around her and he snuggled close to her back. Then she heard him sigh like he hadn't been completely relaxed until she was there, and his breathing evened out. It was then she realized something, and the whispered words, "I love you," slipped out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

Putting a hand over her lips, she prayed he hadn't heard her because of how much it would change things, except the one thing that unfortunately wouldn't change. But a minute later, she relaxed when he still hadn't moved, and her confession was still a secret.

It was inevitable, she knew. She was in love with Michael Vaughn and not Noah Hicks. What had happened with Noah had been too damaging to her heart, and despite how much she had tried to fight to keep from loving Vaughn, she knew she had failed, and he was going to be even more painful to get over.

_I'll just enjoy it while it lasts_, she reminded herself, just as Vaughn's arms tightened around her. Tears burned her eyes and she reached down to her waist to cover his hand with hers, repeating her whispered, "I love you," again more assuredly. "How am I going to live without you?"

And then she softly cried herself to sleep.

The next morning, while Vaughn was in the shower, Sydney received a phone call from her father. "Dad?" she said, curiously checking her watch. "Why aren't you asleep? It's like midnight there."

"I'm fine," he assured her, and then turned the attention away from him. "How are things going?"

"Good," she answered calmly, although the turmoil in her heart was saying just the opposite. She changed the subject easily. "Oh, you'll never guess you we ran into. Noah," she told him without waiting for his possible guess. Jack Bristow despised guessing games anyway, and as his daughter, she knew that well.

"Noah Hicks?" he asked curiously.

"Mm-hmm," she answered in the affirmative. "He's apparently in town on an assignment. Why didn't you tell me he was still working for SD-6?"

There was a silent pause on the other end of the phone. "He told you he's still working for SD-6?"

"Yeah," she repeated. "Why?"

"Sydney," his words were deliberate, "Noah Hicks went rogue about three years ago."

"What?"

"If he told you he was in town on assignment, then he must be working for someone else."

"Dad, are you _sure_?"

"Sydney, despite my…limited abilities as a father when you were growing up, I have never lied to you."

She blinked back tears, hearing the water go off in the bathroom. "I know, Dad."

"I wouldn't trust him, honey."

"I'll talk to you soon."

Sydney sank down on the bed as she ended the conversation and hung up the phone, and barely noticed when Vaughn came out fully dressed and groomed, and approached her.

"Syd?"

Her head snapped up and she forced her eyes to focus on him, and noticed he was wearing his brown turtleneck that somehow brought out the deep flecks of color in his eyes that mesmerized her.

"Are you okay?"

She slowly nodded. "Yeah." Taking a deep breath, she asked, "But would it be okay with you if I went to lunch with Noah alone? There's…something important we need to discuss."

He didn't reply right away, but he eventually agreed. "Are you sure you don't need me?"

_Oh, I need you_—she thought and then shook her head to clear her mind. She used that gesture as if she were saying no and added, "I'll be fine."

_A/N: Translations provided by **freetranslationdotcom**. If any are wrong, please let me know and I will gladly correct them. Thank you!_


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15:**

The flowers Noah had brought her before lunch should have been a dead giveaway. It was a small bouquet of lavender, which according to Vaughn, meant distrust or suspicion. Sydney thanked him, but carried the bunch, watching him cautiously, all the way to the restaurant.

Noah was a little surprised that Vaughn wasn't going along as planned, but he was clearly pleased. And at first, the lunch date was a little tense on Sydney's end until she voiced what was on her mind and confronted Noah about his loyalties. So she finally did it slowly, starting with asking him what exactly his assignment involved.

"Come on, Syd. You know I can't give details like that."

"I know. But you can be vague. No names. No places. Just tell me what your assignment is about."

He was as indistinct as possible: he was supposed to steal something from someone from somewhere, but he was unsuccessful. Whatever it was, Sydney knew it must be important if he couldn't give away _any_ detail at all.

When the moment of truth arrived, Sydney leaned on her arms over the table. "Maybe you didn't know it, but my father is a senior officer at SD-6."

Surprisingly, he nodded. "I knew. I've known since before you came to work at the agency."

Her eyes flew open, and without thinking, she reached across the small table and slapped his face, leaving a whacking sound hanging in the air for a second.

"Okay. I guess I deserved that," he said dryly.

Her voice was incredulous when she finally found it. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"Syd, you know better than anyone that I was obviously under orders to keep quiet about that. And besides, if I had told you that your father was a spy when you thought he sold airplane parts, you wouldn't have believed me anyway."

She sat back slightly when she knew he was right, and she went back to what she was saying, "Then I guess you know that my father is ranked high enough that he knows that you don't work for SD-6 anymore. You haven't worked for them for three years, in fact."

He seemed to be trapped, caught in his lie for a moment, so Sydney took the opportunity to ask, "Why did you lie to me?"

"I…I never meant to--"

"But it just came out, right? You know, most people don't lie to people they supposedly care about."

"Like Vaughn?"

She furrowed her eyebrows. "Vaughn is the most honorable man I've ever known, but this has nothing to do with him. This is about you. You _lied_ to me--"

"What if he is too?"

"He's not," she answered simply.

"How do you know?"

"I just know."

"Because you're in love with him," he assumed.

She didn't answer.

"He's in love with you too, you know."

She tilted her head. "What? No, he's not."

"Yes, he is, Syd. In fact, he's so in love with you, he can't see straight. All he sees is you."

"How do you know?"

Noah's voice softened. "Because I know the look, Syd. I've seen it in the mirror for the past five years." He nodded when he realized she understood what he was saying. "I'm _still_ in love with you too."

She glanced down at the tablecloth between them, and fit that knowledge into the box with all the other tucked away feelings she'd compartmentalized to keep from crying. Their original argument came back to mind, and she shook her head. "It doesn't matter. You lied to me, and I can't trust you anymore."

"But you can trust _him_." She nodded without hesitation, and Noah sighed. Standing up and placing some money on the table, he shook his head. "I hope he makes you happy, Syd."

Even though it pained her to even think it, because of the temporary nature of the words, she said, "He will."

She had her head bowed when the tears started to flow as Noah walked away. She didn't see Vaughn approaching from behind her, or the way he was staring at her slumped shoulders. And he didn't miss the way she wiped tears from her eyes, and suddenly he became enraged when he realized that she was crying.

Seeing Noah walking only a few feet away in the other direction, he rushed up to him, spun him around and put all of his force into one single punch to the jaw. Noah fell back against the building behind him, holding his face in shock, and looked between Vaughn and Sydney, who had rushed to Vaughn's side to hold him back. "I _told_ you what would happen if you hurt her!!" Vaughn yelled to the other man

"Vaughn, it's okay!" Sydney shouted so that he would hear her and stop. "He was leaving for good!"

Holding his face where he'd been hit twice in the same half an hour, Noah actually laughed instead of fighting back. "You two are perfect for each other. I hope you have a nice life together."

As he walked away, Sydney and Vaughn looked at each other. "I'm sorry, Syd," he told her when he saw the scolding look in her eyes.

She just looked down, shrugged, and then laughed. "You know what?" she said, watching Noah disappear around a corner. "He actually deserved that." Slipping her arm through his when he smiled in relief, she said, "Come on. Let's go get ready for our date tonight."

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked as they started to walk.

"I'm fine. Now." She tilted her head to look at him. "Just for tonight, do you think we could pretend that you don't have to go back on Monday?"

"I would _love_ that," he grinned.

She smiled back, happily showing her dimples, "Then it's a deal."

The two picked out their clothes for the night, and Sydney told Vaughn she was going to shower to get ready. Vaughn nodded and looked around as if he didn't know what to do in the meantime. "Do you need to get into the bathroom for anything?" she asked.

"Just to shave," he shrugged, "But that can wait."

"Vaughn," she said, and then corrected herself. "Michael. You can shave _while_ I shower. I'll be behind the curtain. Once I'm in the shower, you can come in and then leave before I get out. There's nothing wrong with that."

He watched her for a moment and when she nodded, he conceded. "Okay."

"I'll call you when I'm ready."

A few minutes after he heard the water start running, he heard Sydney yell that he could come in, and the first thing he saw was her discarded clothes on the floor. He swallowed hard, doing his best to keep from picturing what Sydney looked like at that moment behind the curtain.

"Are you shaving?" she asked, snapping him out of his daydream that he was having as he stared at the small pile of clothes at his feet.

"Yeah," he answered, picking up the shaving cream can to shake it.

"Darn it," she muttered. "I'm out of soap. Think you can get a new bottle of shower gel out of the mirror cabinet for me?"

"Sure." Opening the cabinet, he ran his fingers lightly over her perfume with a smile and grabbed the little bottle beside it and put it in her outstretched hand extending beyond the curtain.

"Ew. Lavender." She stuck it back out toward him. "Is there another scent available?"

Vaughn had to stifle the laugh that wanted to erupt from his throat for a couple of reasons, the first of which was her acting like she was in a store with a lot of options. The second reason was that she had told him that lavender was the type of flowers Noah had chosen to give her earlier that day, which ended up being highly appropriate, although he hadn't intended it to be that way.

Fortunately, there was another choice in the cabinet. "Is strawberry okay?"

"Perfect!" she squealed, and Vaughn handed it over.

Vaughn was just finishing up by washing his face and applying aftershave when Sydney turned off the water. He froze with his hands on his cheeks as she asked, "Michael, are you still in here?"

He couldn't breathe for a moment, and then realized he'd better before she yanked open the curtain and revealed herself. "Y-yes," his voice was surprisingly weak.

"Oh, okay. I'll wait."

Instead of leaving the room, he grabbed her towel and pushed it through one end of the curtain. "Here you go," he said, and felt Sydney take it out of his hand.

"Thank you."

"I'll be leaving now."

"Okay."

Before he left the bathroom, he stopped at the door and said, "Oh, if I'm not in the room when you come out, don't be upset. I want to treat you as if I were courting you."

"You mean, you want it to be like a real date? Like you have to come pick me up?"

"Yes, exactly." He turned to go.

"Michael," she stopped him from leaving again. She stuck her head out of the curtain, and he hesitantly turned to make eye contact with her, trying to ignore how the water was beautifully glistening on her skin, and how he ached to catch the one drop that was dangling at the edge of her top lip. 

"Be careful," she warned him, and the drop fell from her face.

The left half of his face curved up and he promised, "I will." He took another step out the door, and then stopped again. "Oh, how long do you need to get ready?"

She shrugged the one visible, bare shoulder above where the towel now covered her, held up by her hand. "Half an hour?"

Vaughn nodded with a smile, walked out, and closed the door behind him.

A half an hour was just enough time for Sydney to do her hair and makeup, and then slip into her ruby red, strapless dress. It had a double layer of the red stretch charmeuse silk, an empire waist, rouched sides, and criss-crossed lacing in the back that was a pain to tighten and tie by herself.

But it was well worth all the trouble when Vaughn knocked on the door at the precise time, and she opened it and saw his face. He was silent for a full thirty seconds, not even taking a breath as his eyes traveled from her hair swooped up off of her neck, all the way down her body to her matching red shoes, just barely visible under the long gown. "Sydney," he breathed in a whisper and he shook his head. "You are beautiful."

Sydney was busy drinking him in, wearing the black suit she'd fell in love with when she saw him try it on, although she was quickly beginning to understand just exactly _what_ it was she'd fallen for, and it wasn't the clothing, but the man. He looked sharp though, wearing a pewter-colored shirt under his black jacket, complete with a black tie that made him look as sexy as ever. "You look great yourself."

After several nerve-wracking minutes, Vaughn grinned and held out his arm for her. "Ready?" he asked, and she smiled back, letting the dimples deepen in her cheeks with her happiness.

She grabbed her black wrap and draped it around her arms, slipping her hand in the crook of his arm. "Let's go."

They walked in the hall in silence, but when Sydney caught a glimpse of their reflection in the mirror around the elevator, she blurted, "We look good together."

Vaughn turned his head to her, meeting her eyes, and could no longer resist what he'd wanted to do for days. Slipping his free hand on her neck, he leaned in and lightly kissed her cheek, and then her jaw, and a split-second before he reached her lips, the elevator door opened and dinged, interrupting them.

He pulled away slightly to look at her wanting face, and decided it couldn't hurt to kiss her now. Not tonight when they'd made the promise to pretend that what was reality didn't exist so that they could enjoy themselves. So he kissed her, lightly at first, as if it were their first of all time. And then, following her lead, and feeling the parting of her lips, he let the kiss deepen, and cradled her face in his hands.

Sydney's hands slowly traveled from his back to his chest, and she lightly pushed him away, concentrating on breathing when they parted and looked at each other. "Michael, as much as I…" she stopped and tried again, "If you keep that up, we're going to miss the ferry."

Grinning because she wasn't rejecting him, and she hadn't said they couldn't continue later, he held out his arm for her one more time, and they both laughed when they turned and realized that they had just missed the elevator.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16:**

Sydney and Vaughn traveled by tour bus from the lobby of the hotel to the dock on the Seine to begin their evening cruise followed by an elegant dinner and dancing. Her mouth dropped open slightly when she saw the romantic glow of the ferry that was trimmed in tiny white lights along the railing. It reflected beautifully off of the dark waters of the river and for a moment, she found it hard to believe that she was living this dream. Vaughn nudged her to step aboard when it was their turn with a hand comfortably fit in the small of her back. Sydney allowed herself to be led, and once on the upper level, she took a look around the open deck, with the star-filled sky as their ceiling.

Following the lead of the other passengers, Vaughn led Sydney to a couple of seats on one side, and waited until she was sitting by the railing before claiming the chair next to hers. A voice came over the loud speaker just as they were getting settled. "Le bon soir, mes amis. (Good evening, my friends.) Welcome aboard Le Cygne Blanc (The White Swan). If you will take your seats, we will start our tour of the beautiful City of Lights from the most beautiful and romantic river in the world: The Seine."

The voice of The White Swan's guide started talking about the sights as the ferry started to move along the river and they approached each one, only saying one or two short sentences of interest, and keeping quiet most of the time so the guests would enjoy the peace of the Seine as well.

Sydney sat back in her chair to find Vaughn's arm wrapped around her shoulders and she involuntarily smiled. Turning slightly toward him, she rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes contentedly. He smelled of aftershave and a certain brand of cologne she couldn't place, and for a moment, she tried to remember which brand she'd bought him that first day she'd known him.

"Sydney," he whispered a few minutes later, thinking she had gone to sleep. "You're missing Notre Dame."

But she was wide-awake despite the fact that her eyes were still closed. "I've seen Notre Dame," she said simply, not moving even a little bit from her ideal spot. "I like this better."

Vaughn's heart sped up a bit, and he happily dipped his head until his nose was buried in her hair, and took another deep whiff of her scent. Mingled in with her shampoo, he could smell her perfume, and just a hint of the strawberry gel she'd used in the shower earlier that afternoon. Feeling heat rising from his neck, he wondered if she smelled like that all over.

"Now, as we pass under the first bridge," the voice said cheerily, "I should tell you about an old superstition we have here. It is good luck to kiss someone under every bridge you pass under on the Seine, or so we've been told. Just please make sure you know the other person first," he joked, and a light laughter from the other passengers floated on the breeze around them.

Sydney lifted her head slightly, and looked from Vaughn's eyes to his lips and back again wanting to ask, but it was Vaughn that suggested, "Should we…?"

Just as the front of the boat started into the shadows of the bridge, Sydney reached her hand around to his neck, leaned in and answered, "I'd hate to go against superstition." She captured his lips then, letting her fingers splay across his smooth chin to hold his jaw and pull him closer, as they tasted each other for the second time.

They were well out from under the bridge when they finally parted, leaving each other's lips with another light peck, and then they rested their foreheads together. Sydney squeezed her eyes shut, and had to ask, "Michael…about Elizabeth…"

"I've already decided to call off our engagement," he interjected.

She leaned back to look at his eyes. "But, why?"

"I don't love her, Sydney."

She dropped her eyes and made herself meet his again. "Alright, I can understand that possibility. But what about your destiny—your future family? Their existence depends on you marrying Elizabeth."

"Maybe," he conceded, "and after some time passes, Elizabeth and I may still get married. But, Sydney, I was already trying to think of a way of ending our engagement even before I came back with you. It doesn't change anything." He reached up to hold her face, and said, "I was just looking for the right reason."

One small tear escaped from Sydney's eye, and Vaughn quietly wiped it away with his thumb. "Hey," he said softly, forcing her to meet his eyes again. "I thought we were going to forget about these things for tonight."

"I know," she dropped her head in a nod, staring at his black tie. Seeing that it was slightly twisted, she reached her hand up to his chest and fixed it, and he stilled her hand against his heart, making her smile.

Bringing her hand to his lips, he kissed her fingertips, and turned to notice that the boat was quickly approaching another bridge, which brought a wry half-smile to his lips before he claimed hers again, kissing her sweetly. "I like _this_ superstition," he teased after they'd separated about an inch, and he cast a sideways glance down the river, remembering the endless number of bridges ahead.

Sydney playfully slapped at his chest and then kept herself close to him as she turned to face the railing, and tucked her wrap under her arms across her chest.

"Cold?" he asked, rubbing her shoulder with one hand while the other ran down her arm.

She shook her head and said, "Not if you keep holding me like this."

Vaughn wrapped his arms more snugly around her in response, and settled back against the seat as the guide mentioned more points of interest, and for the most part, they paid attention. But when they reached the next bridge, Sydney tilted her head back and to the side and allowed Vaughn to kiss her again. It was silly, they both knew, but at the same time, they couldn't help hoping for all the luck they could get.

Each sight was announced and admired, and each bridge was shared with a kiss. And by the time they reached the end of the tour, Sydney had all but forgotten about the events of the coming Monday. 

Dinner at the popular brasserie was just as romantic as the cruise had been, and only slightly more elegant with its candlelit tables and soft music from a small orchestra on one side of the large room. The maitre 'd led Sydney and Vaughn to their table, politely took her wrap, and then offered them some complimentary champagne.

Vaughn picked up his glass once they were alone and asked, "What should we drink to?"

"To the past," Sydney answered with a smile, picking up hers as well.

Vaughn nodded and matched her smile, adding, "And the future," before they both took a sip.

Throughout most of dinner, their conversation was pleasant and casual as long as they stuck to the subject of the similarities of their likes and dislikes, and the aspects of their lives without discussing the massive differences. Only once after they were finished with the main course, did Vaughn mention something about a painting in his family's home, that he quickly regretted it when Sydney's face turned white. She had looked down at her lap then, and when she glanced back up, she forced a smile and blinked back tears.

"I'm going to go to the ladies' room," she said with a fake cheerfulness that made Vaughn's heart break. He thought of stopping her when they both stood for her to leave the table, but decided that she might just need a moment to compose herself, and then they could get back to pretending that the dream they were living was real.

Sydney compartmentalized all the way to the bathroom, trying to push down the image in her mind of the painting of Vaughn's future family that she hadn't actually seen. She hadn't even asked Vaughn what Elizabeth looked like, but she could still see her in her mind. Elizabeth didn't have a recognizable face, except that of "the other woman" in Vaughn's life. The lucky one. If only she were so lucky.

While Sydney was locked behind the bathroom stall, trying to stop from crying, she heard two American women come into the room, already in conversation and talking loudly. "I know. Well, did you see that _one_ guy?"

"Which one? Was he alone?" a deeper woman's voice asked as Sydney heard the click of a purse opening.

"No, he was with that woman—you know, in the red dress."

"Oh, that guy in the black suit?" The other woman must've nodded, because the deeper voice continued, "Wow, is he ever hot."

"Yeah, but she didn't look like she appreciated him too much." Another click—this time, a lipstick cap being replaced.

"I know. Did you see how he stood up when she did?"

"Mm-hmm. And the way he _looked_ at her." She sighed. "Man, if a guy treated me like that for even five minutes, I could live the rest of my life as a single woman and be completely happy."

"I know," Deep Voice repeated and Sydney heard the outer door open with a small squeak and their voices got farther away. She heard one more comment from Deep Voice before the door automatically shut, "She doesn't know how lucky she is."

Once she was again alone, Sydney sighed, completely disappointed in herself. They'd promised that for just this one night, that the future—_or_ the past—wasn't going to affect them. And yet, there she was, blowing her nose in a bathroom stall, trying to hide the disappointment of their known fates.

She shook her head determinedly and exited the stall to check her reflection. Besides the tear-rimmed eyes, and slightly ruined makeup, overall, she still looked fine. Pulling out her face powder, she reapplied it to cover up the remains of her tears, and then put on a fresh layer of lipstick.

Satisfied that she looked much better, and more importantly, that her attitude was now adjusted, she stepped out of the bathroom to return to their table and Vaughn. He stood up when he saw her approaching, and asked concernedly, "Feel better?"

Without answering, Sydney continued determinedly past her awaiting chair to plant her lips directly on his in an attempt to erase the past fifteen minutes in one bold kiss. She immediately tasted a sweet vanilla coffee on his lips, as one hand of his reached up to hold her face while the other rested on her waist. And when Sydney pulled away, she licked her lips to taste the remnants of their kiss. "They served coffee while I was gone?" she asked curiously.

He laughed more at the way she figured that out than the way she asked the question. "Yeah." With one hand, he gestured to her place setting. "You have some too."

She followed his line of sight, and saw the steaming cup next to her unused dessert plate. But she turned back uninterested, and let her gaze fall on the busy dance floor far behind him, listening to a song winding down toward the end. "Maybe later. Right now, I want to dance."

Vaughn's smile was automatic as Sydney reached down to remove his hand from her waist to hold it and pull him to the dance floor across the room, weaving their way through the small crowd. When she reached a desired location in the middle of the floor, she turned and let Vaughn envelope her in his arms as a new song began; a sweet melody lilted them into a smooth rhythm. "This is more like it," she said to Vaughn, who silently looked at her for an explanation. "I'm wearing a dress this time."

That elicited a small grin from him, as a male soloist in front of the live band on the small stage started to sing in French, and Sydney pulled herself closer to Vaughn to sway to the music; resting her cheek against his as she translated the words in her mind, one verse at a time.

_The blue sky can collapse in on itself  
And the earth can cave in  
Little matters to me if you love me  
I couldn't care less about the whole world_

As long as love will flood my mornings  
As long as my body will quiver beneath your hands  
The problems matter so little to me  
My love, because you love me

Vaughn pushed her away slightly and sought out her eyes, as if the song were speaking his heart. She felt tears burning her eyes, but this time, it was not the truth of the future causing her tears of pain, but the love radiating in his eyes bringing tears of joy.

Overwhelmed with emotion, she simply kissed his cheek and pressed her body against his, focusing on the words again. She laughed inside when she heard the next few lines; it made her think of her own spy life, mixed with how she was starting to feel about Michel Vaughn:

_I would go to the ends of the earth  
I would dye my hair blonde  
If you asked me to  
I would pull down the moon  
I would steal a fortune  
If you asked me to  
I would disavow my homeland  
I would disavow my friends  
If you asked me to  
One could well laugh at me  
I would do anything  
I would do anything  
If you asked me to_

She wasn't laughing anymore when Vaughn repeated the last two lines in a whisper to Sydney's ear, and instead, she felt herself swimming with desire. The room was empty in her mind; there was no one else around and they were alone in the world as the song completed itself.

_If one day life tears you away from me  
If you die and go far from me  
Little matters to me if you love me  
Because I will die too  
We would have eternity for ourselves  
In the blue of all the immensity  
In heaven, no more problems  
My love, do you believe that we love each other?_

God reunites those who love each other

Sydney had her eyes squeezed shut as the song ended with the dwindling light tune weaving through the air around them. The last line repeated in her mind over and over, as if she were trying to convince herself that it was true. Sometime during the dance, she'd let go of his hand and had wrapped both arms around his neck, holding him tight. Vaughn's response was to hug her just as tightly, with his face buried between her bare neck and shoulder.

They slowly came to a stop, and they didn't move for a few minutes, as if they were hanging on for dear life. In fact, it wasn't until another, more contemporary song started up, that they were brought back to their senses and Sydney loosened her grip. They stayed close as they parted slightly, and she looked up to find moisture in Vaughn's eyes matching hers.

He found his voice first. "Maybe we should go back to the table and have dessert."

She managed a slight nod, and keeping both of her arms around his waist, and his around her shoulder; they walked slowly toward their table. Once they reached it, however, Sydney was still reluctant to let go. "Syd," Vaughn tried, pulling her arms from around him. "I'm here _now_. We'll figure out something, I promise you."

He seemed to be able to sooth her with such simple words, more so than anyone she'd ever known in her life. With his encouraging nudge, she took her seat and then leaned across the table to reach his hand as he sat down. "Vaughn." He half-smiled with the sound of his name. "If I forget to say this later, or…if something happens…" she swallowed the lump in her throat. "Thank you…for tonight. It's been wonderful."

His smiled grew to reach the other side of his face and he flipped his hand over to squeeze hers. "It isn't over yet."


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17:**

Both Sydney and Vaughn chose the warm apple tart topped with vanilla ice cream as their dessert, and with it, they also enjoyed the restaurant's house wine and a cup of coffee. Sydney sat back in her chair after she sipped the last of her coffee, set her cup down with a clink and laid her hand across her full stomach. "I don't think I'm going to be able to move from this chair."

He laughed, "Well, I could carry you out, but that might draw a lot of attention."

She matched his smile. "Yeah, we definitely don't need that."

"Are you ready to go?"

She nodded, "The tour bus leaves at ten." She looked at a clock on the wall nearby and made a face. "Twenty minutes." It seemed like an eternity.

"We _could_ walk back," he suggested and Sydney smiled.

"That's a good idea. We could work off some of this food before going to bed." As soon as she said the words, she blushed and looked down, and when she chanced to look up at him again, she could tell he was shyly thinking the same thing. And, surprisingly, he was blushing and smiling about it too. 

Stepping outside into the cool air a few minutes later, Sydney put her wrap around her shoulders and sighed at the stars, waiting for Vaughn to come to stand beside her. "Ready?" he asked, offering his arm, and she nodded and took it as they stepped into rhythm to walk away from the restaurant.

A few minutes of quiet walking filled with several side-glances at each other and a lot of smiles, Vaughn finally broke the silence. "Did I tell you that you look beautiful tonight?" he asked; honestly not remembering if he had, but knowing that she more than deserved to hear it.

Her dimples appeared as she looked over at him. "Yes, you did. But thank you again."

Wrapping their arms around each other's waists then, they walked in a quiet, satisfied peace for a while, until Vaughn stopped her in front of a fountain. "Wait here," he asked her, and although she wondered why, she did as she was told. She sat down on the edge as he strolled away behind her and around the fountain. And when she saw him coming back a few minutes later, he had his hands behind him.

She stood up to face him again, with a curious look on her face. "What's…" she pointed to his arms.

"Something I forgot earlier," he answered, bringing his hand around to reveal a single, long-stemmed, deep red rose.

"Oh Vaughn," she breathed, and then brought the flower to her nose to smell its rich scent. "Thank you." She remembered without asking what the rose meant: passionate love. And so with a hand on the back of his neck, she closed the gap between them to kiss him again.

Only this time, they _were_ alone, if you didn't count the few tourists passing by now and then; and when Vaughn deepened the kiss, Sydney ran her tongue across his teeth. Vaughn's jaw moved slightly as his head tilted a little more and he leaned closer, accepting her tongue with a soft moan.

Suddenly his hands were everywhere: in her hair and on her back and hips—anywhere he could reach to pull her closer as their passion intensified. The kiss was quickly changing them from being friends to lovers, and both suddenly felt the need to be _really_ alone.

Breaking apart, they didn't separate more than a couple of inches, and Vaughn asked, "Can we go…?"

"Back to the room?" she finished for him, and together they nodded.

Again they walked with their arms around one another, but their steps were a lot faster, as they raced to reach their destination. Finally, the hotel came into view, and they separated enough to hold hands as they walked through the doors and across the lobby. The elevator took _forever_ to get to the bottom floor, and the ride up to the fourth floor seemed even longer, as they gripped each other's hands excitedly.

Sydney fumbled with the key from her purse, and tried to steady her hand to unlock the door. When the door was finally open, they went in, and he'd barely closed the door behind them as she dropped the rose and her purse to the floor and fell into his arms; their lips on each other's again. 

Holding his head in her hands, she let her fingers run through the short hair above his neck as Vaughn's hands around her back pulled her tight. It was magical and freeing, and everything Sydney wanted in that moment of her life. There were no consequences of their actions on their minds, no repercussions of what would happen, and no future or past to worry about—there was just this moment and the two of them alone in the world.

When their lips changed positions, Vaughn brought his hand to her face, tenderly holding her like a fragile flower, cherishing her. Sydney dropped her hands to lie flat against his chest and could feel his heart pounding beneath the palm of her right hand. She smiled against his lips and then realized her own heart was beating in time with his.

Running her hands up under his coat, she lifted it off of his shoulders, needing to feel physically closer to him, if only by removing a piece of clothing. Vaughn dropped his arms from her long enough to let his coat fall to the floor and she then went to work on his tie. Pulling the knot all the way out as they continued to kiss, she tugged at one end until the tie was free, dropping it to the floor as well.

When she reached for the top button of his shirt and undid it, Vaughn let go of her lips to breathlessly ask, "Are we…?"

"Yes," she responded to his unasked question in a whisper, leaning her forehead against his lips with her eyes closed. "Please."

He answered by putting his palm against her cheek and lifting her lips to his again. His kiss was softer this time, and not quite as rushed as he tasted and gently caressed her. She slowly finished unbuttoning his shirt as Vaughn reached around to the back of her dress. He seemed lost in the strings, trying to find the bow, so Sydney stopped kissing him long enough to reach behind her to guide his hands down to its location, low on her waist.

Her breath caught in her throat when she felt his fingers just on the top edge of her rear, while his lips took advantage of his slightly bent position to kiss her exposed shoulder. Sydney's knees weakened with his warm breath on her skin, and when she felt her dress loosen at the back when he successfully untied it, she had to hang on to his neck with one arm to keep from falling down with the sensations.

She sighed in happiness; looking once again at his bare muscular chest, and lightly ran her fingertips of her free hand over his pecks. Then she bent over a little to follow her fingers with her lips, starting to leave a path of kisses on his chest while he left his mark on her shoulders and neck.

When she reached for the button on his pants, he stilled her hands with both of his and wrapped her arms back around him until they were hugging each other again. Sydney was sure that the hug was the only thing now holding her loosened dress up, but she wondered why he'd stopped her.

"Wait," he explained, and she understood that he was slowing them down a bit. He mumbled her name against her shoulder, pleased to find that she _did_ in fact smell like strawberry all over and tried to focus on what was on his mind. He was out of breath as he spoke between light kisses to her aching skin, "I want this…so much…but do you…I don't want to if…are you sure…"

She pushed him away slightly and laid a hand against his mouth and looked into his eyes. "Michael," she shook her head and tried to form a coherent sentence despite the fog clouding her brain. Her palm slid to rest on his jaw. "I want this too."

With relief on his face, he leaned forward and kissed her again, and then let his lips leave a trail across her jaw to her neck and back up to her ear. "I'm…so glad…" he mumbled between kisses. "But…I've never…" he whispered, unable to finish the sentence yet again.

She pulled his head away when she realized what he was saying, to look into his eyes for sincerity. "Never?" she asked curiously.

He shook his head and in response, she passionately slammed her lips against his with the new knowledge, letting her tongue sweep through his mouth. _He's never made love with a woman. Not even Elizabeth_, she told herself. But as soon as the thought crossed her mind, the intensity of her kiss lessened until she was as tender as his sweet heart. _I'll be his first_. For a brief second, the thought pleased her and she let herself drown in the desire she was feeling for this unbelievable man.

_But, we'll only get to be together until Monday_, her mind involuntarily reminded her, and suddenly she stopped and gently pushed him away. He had his mouth open and his lips pursed when she stepped out of his arms, holding up her dress. She walked away as she reached back to quickly retie it.

He tried to pull her back to him by grabbing her arm when she'd let go of the ties, but she stayed turned away from him at arm's length with her opposite thigh touching the edge of the bed. "What is it?" he asked to the side of her face.

She shook her head. "This isn't right."

"Why? What--?" he stopped when he knew what she meant. "Sydney, we have _tonight_," he reminded her.

She spun around to face him with their hands still joined. "And then what? You'll be gone in _two_ days, Vaughn! If we do this, I will never forgive myself!"

He took a step toward her. "Why? Because I haven't ever been with a woman before? Sydney, I'm a grown man who can make my own decisions. I don't think this is a mistake."

"But _why_ haven't you done it before? Because you were waiting for the right woman? Someone to spend the rest of your life with?? Vaughn, that's not me!" She choked on a sob on those last words, and she couldn't stop the tears from flowing out of her eyes. Her shoulders began to shake with her sobs that joined the tears. "I wish it was," she cried.

Vaughn completed closing the gap between them and held her face, wiping away old tears as new ones kept pouring out. "Sydney, please don't cry. I don't want this to be over. I want us…" He was breathing heavy at this point, and tears were building in his own eyes as well. "Come with me," he said abruptly, and Sydney looked up at him again and she sniffed incredulously.

"Yeah, right," she sniffed again, talking over the lumps in her throat. "Just leave everyone I know and love to change the course of history and cause existing people to disappear into oblivion. Weiss will be thrilled to hear that," she said sarcastically and tried to turn away again.

"Sydney, please," he begged, dropping his hands from her face to grab her arms. "You can come with me. We still don't know _who_ is it that I marry—maybe it's you."

"Vaughn, that doesn't make any sense. How could someone from the future have descendants in the past?"

"I don't know," he admitted with a shake of his head and then reached up to touch her cheek. "All I know is that I lo--"

"Don't," she demanded, immediately putting one hand across his mouth to stop him from saying those words she longed to hear. More tears sprang to her eyes and an uncontrollable sob formed. "Don't say it, please," she begged. "I won't be able let you go if you do." She knew she had to at least be honest.

He spoke against her hand until she moved it to his neck, "You don't have to let me go, Sydney. I want you to come with me. I'm _asking_ you to come with me."

She took a moment to consider that, and what it would mean. She would have to leave everything: her job, her home, her friends, and her father…_forever_. It was the latter reason that made her shake her head again. She couldn't leave right when she was getting to know her father better than she ever had in her life. And how could she say goodbye to Dixon and Marshall, and Will and Francie? They were as much a part of her family as her father was.

"I-I can't," she cried. Her face was contorted with tears as she moved out of his grasp and stepped past him. She picked up her wrap from the floor and walked out of the room hearing Vaughn calling her name.

Vaughn couldn't sleep. He was worried to say the least, and that on top of the adrenaline that had been flowing due their passion and shared kisses from earlier that evening, he wasn't able to close his eyes. Sydney had left and not come back for over four hours, and he was scared for her. He'd spent much of the night pacing the floor, standing on the balcony looking for her, calling the front desk to see if they'd seen her, or simply sitting on the bed, staring at the door handle, waiting for it to turn.

Currently, he was sitting on the bed, propped up against the headboard, but she wasn't coming in the door. He'd blown it, he was sure. Asking her to leave her life and come with him was the stupidest thing he could've suggested, and he berated himself for it. He knew it was going to be the turning point for their relationship, whatever it was—whether good or bad, he didn't know. But it didn't look promising.

He was just on the verge of sleep after finally laying down in defeat, when he heard the door open, and he sat up straight in bed. "Syd," he sighed in relief. "Are you okay? Where have you been?"

Without answering, she walked into the bathroom and shut the door. A few minutes later, she reappeared in her sweats and tank top; all traces of her makeup that hadn't been washed away by tears had been washed off her face. She quietly turned off the lamp that had been on as Vaughn waited for her return, and slipped in between the sheets facing away from him.

"Syd," Vaughn whispered, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry about earlier. I shouldn't have--"

"Shhhhh," she said, reaching up for his hand to pull it around her body to rest under her head. The action pulled him snug against her back, and he kissed the tender spot behind her ear. 

"You don't want to talk about it?"

Silently she shook her head, and kept his arm trapped around her chest. Vaughn didn't understand it completely, but he knew better than to argue or continue to try to get her to talk. He had a feeling that when she was ready, she would let him know exactly how she felt. So, instead, he snuggled himself against her back and went to sleep.

When Vaughn woke up the next morning, Sydney was in the same position still asleep, and he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before kissing her newly exposed neck. He could tell she was tired from her late night wherever she was, and he felt the need to surprise her with something to cheer her up somehow.

Rolling out of bed, he decided to shower while he hatched a plan, and it hit him while he was shampooing his hair. He would order room service for breakfast, and serve it to her in bed. He got out of the shower with a smile, and spent a few minutes planning what to order for breakfast as he dressed, shaved, and combed his hair

He slowly opened the door when he was through to keep from waking Sydney, but he was surprised to see her standing and leaning over the bed doing something. Stepping out into the room, he called her name, and when she turned, he saw a suitcase on the bed.

The color drained from his face, he knew, because his words were weak, "Syd, what are you doing?"

She couldn't meet his eyes. "I'm going home. My SD-6 partner, Dixon, is coming to take my place. He'll…send you back."

He took a step toward her and asked, "Is this because of last night? Syd, I'm sorry--"

"No," she took a tiny step toward him and held up her hand. "Don't apologize for last night—it was perfect. More perfect than I could've ever imagined."

"Then why are you leaving?"

She closed her eyes for a moment and when she opened them again, there was a layer of moisture in them. "Because no matter what, I won't be able to say goodbye to you if I stay any longer."

He took yet another step, slowly closing the space between them. "Sydney, please don't go."

"Vaughn, I have to."

"Why?"

"Because…" she choked back tears. "Because I …" She started crying and Vaughn reached for her and pulled her into his arms, letting her sob it out on his shoulder.

When there was a knock at the door, Vaughn's heart leapt into his throat. It was too soon to say goodbye. He wasn't ready. He held her upper arms desperately trying to keep her from leaving. "Sydney, please."

She simply shook her head, willing herself not to break down into sobs again like she'd spent much of the night, walking around town, trying to avoid possible onlookers as she made her decision.

"Syd?" he tried again, continuing to hold her to keep her from walking away from him.

"Vaughn," she swallowed tearfully. "Let me go…please."

Her words mirrored that first night he'd held on to her to keep her from falling off the tower to leap through time, and again, he was reluctant to release her. And when he did, he suddenly realized that he could never deny her anything she asked for, even if it broke his heart.

Once free, she picked up her suitcase with one hand and tearfully ran her other one across his smooth jaw. "I will _never_ forget you, Michael."

With a swipe of her cheeks and a small, forced smile as if she were determined to keep from leaving him in sadness, she turned and headed for the door. Vaughn was in shock as she walked away from him and then he gathered his senses enough to follow her to try to stop her. "Syd!" But before he could reach her, she had opened the door to let Dixon in and his opportunity was gone.

Vaughn stood back and watched as Sydney stepped out into the hall to set down the suitcase as she greeted Dixon. She quickly said goodbye to the other man, and with another apologetic glance at Vaughn, she closed the door behind her.

He stared at the back of the door even as Dixon approached him. "Mr. Vaughn, I'm Marcus Dixon."

Vaughn unconsciously lifted his hand to shake Dixon's, but his mind was still on the woman in a gray pantsuit that had just walked out the door with his heart.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18: **

Sydney managed to hold back the tears while she was driven by taxi to the airport; she kept them in while she checked her bag and walked to her terminal; she even didn't cry as she settled in her plane seat. But when the flight attendant's voice announced that they would be landing in LA in a little less than twelve hours, she lost it. She was crying into her hands before long, and digging through her purse, looking for something to be used as a tissue.

A hand appeared in front of her with a white handkerchief, almost unrecognizable through her watery eyes; this, after several minutes of searching turned up useless. Sydney looked up at the tender elderly woman's face two seats to her left, and took the handkerchief with her thanks.

Sydney wiped at her eyes and nose, as her sobs slowly dwindled, and she practically choked when the woman said, "God reunites those who love each other."

She looked up at her in shock. "Wha-- How…how did you know…??" It was the words from the song she and Vaughn had danced to that the woman used that had shocked Sydney the most, but the strange lady misunderstood.

"I know what a broken heart looks like," she explained. "Don't worry. Everything will work out fine."

Sydney turned her gaze back to her hands in her lap. "I don't think it will," she argued softly. "I'm never going to see him again. Except in history books," she mumbled the last part to herself as she rested her head back against the seat and stared out the window.

She felt the woman pat her on the arm. "You will. Trust me."

Wanting to be alone with her thoughts, Sydney simply smiled at the sweet woman, and turned away again, watching the last little bit of Europe disappear out her window.

She thought back to the night before, when she and Vaughn had been so close… Her dress was undone, he was half-dressed himself, and she was minutes away from giving him all of herself and facing the consequences. Part of her wished they hadn't stopped, but mostly, she _was_ glad. Had they been together intimately, in what she knew would be mind-blowing, she would have kept him from ever going anywhere again, and Weiss and a hundred others would cease to exist. She knew she wasn't strong enough to let him go if they'd become lovers.

After she'd left, and walked around town crying and coming to her decision, she'd finally called her dad for help.

_"Sydney?" he asked concernedly, when he heard her sniffles as she spoke. "Are you alright?"_

"No," she cried, admitting to the one person she hoped would understand. "Dad, I made a mistake. I thought I could handle this, but I…I can't."

"Is it Vaughn?"

"Yes," she answered honestly.

"Did he hurt you?" was his next concern and he was slightly ruffled.

"No, no," she shook her head, hugging her phone close. "He's…he's…perfect," she finished, for lack of a better word.

Suddenly Jack understood. "He still…has to go back, Sydney."

"I know. But I can't do it. I can't send him back, Dad. I want him to stay," she broke down again, and took a seat on the edge of the same fountain where Vaughn had given her the rose earlier that evening.

"I'll send Dixon as soon as possible. He should be there by morning. Will you be alright until then?"

She pushed herself up with one hand on her knee until her elbow was locked straight and then sighed in relief. "Yes. Thank you, Daddy." And then a thought came to mind. "Don't tell Dixon…"

"Of course not," he promised, and then said for the first time since she was a child, "I…love you, Sydney."

That just brought more tears to her eyes, but she managed, "I love you too, Dad," before she hung up the phone and cried some more.

She'd walked around for another hour until she had the crying under control, and as she walked back to their hotel, and rode the elevator up to their room, she'd hoped Vaughn would be asleep. And when she came in and he sat up in bed, she avoided his questions and pretended to go to sleep. It was the only way.

After he'd drifted off to sleep with his arm comfortably around her, she'd quietly and carefully turned around to look at him in order to say goodbye. She kissed every inch of his face, being careful not to wake him up, and when she reached his lips, he responded in his sleep by kissing her back one final time. He never woke up, even as Sydney turned back over, allowing him to spoon up against her for their last night together.

She didn't sleep at all that night, and when Vaughn woke up that morning, she faked being asleep so that she could get packed to leave while he was in the bathroom, without having to explain what was happening. She'd thought that Dixon might even show up during that time and then she could've even escaped without seeing Vaughn's face as she left. She had only hoped, but it didn't work out that way. And Vaughn's look in those last moments as she'd closed the door was burned into her memory and had broken her heart.

Sydney was feeling no better after landing in LA, despite the little sleep she managed to get on the plane. It was late afternoon when she finally arrived home, but Francie and Will were both there when she walked in the door.

"Hey!" Francie yelled as soon as Sydney stepped inside, and Francie pulled her into a hug. "How was Paris? And Vaughn? And where is he?" She looked past Sydney out the door to the taxi that was driving away.

Sydney moved her suitcase out of the way of the door and closed it. "Vaughn's still in Paris and I'm really tired, so can I talk to you guys later?"

Francie and Will both looked at each other, and gave Sydney a weird look. "Sure," Francie mumbled, and then asked, "Do you need anything?"

Stepping past her best friend, Sydney answered, "No, thanks…I'm just tired, that's all."

She walked down the hall with her suitcase as Will asked Francie quietly, "What was _that_ all about?"

"I don't know. She seemed really happy the last time I talked to her," she answered just as Sydney closed her bedroom door. "He must've done something."

Sydney had abandoned her suitcase on the floor just inside the door, and collapsed on the bed with more tears. She thought that once she was home that it would be easier, but it just reminded her that _he_ didn't come home with her, like she ached for him to. She'd _wanted_ him to meet Will and Francie, and she wanted him to see where she lived and what her life was like. But it just wasn't possible.

By dinnertime, Sydney had taken a bath, and currently sat in bed with a book; the words on the page blurred together as her mind wandered, and after an hour of being on the same page, she realized she wasn't really reading it. She rolled over until her head hit the headboard and sighed, just as there was a knock at the door.

"Syd?" It was Francie. "Can I come in?"

"Of course," she answered and attempted a smile at her best friend as she sat up.

"What's going on?"

Sydney shook her head, weighing her words carefully. She hadn't exactly planned an explanation, so she was going to be winging it. "Nothing's…" her voice drifted off with her shrug as Francie sat at Sydney's feet on the bed.

"_Something's_ going on, so don't tell me it's nothing," Francie searched her face. "Did…Vaughn…_do_ something to you?"

"No," Sydney proclaimed, glancing down at her lap. "No, he was a…perfect gentleman."

"Then what happened??" Francie questioned. "Why isn't he here with you?"

Sydney swallowed. "He had to go home," she shrugged.

"So? Then when is he coming?"

"I'm afraid he's not. I'm…not going to be seeing him again."

"What are you talking about? I thought you two hit it off. Why not?"

Sydney sighed and shook her head, "We did…hit it off. But Francie, I… It's--"

"…hard to explain," they both said at the same time. "You know, Syd, I'm getting really tired of hearing that. I don't care how hard it is—_explain_ it to me."

"I can't," Sydney told her with tears in her eyes. "It's just…_over_ with Michael. It's over and he's gone." Her heart in her chest was in physical pain as she spoke those final words.

"It's his fiancé, right? He wouldn't dump her?"

Sydney went between telling her the truth and lying and finally decided to avoid it all together. "Even if he did leave her, it wouldn't change anything. It's just not meant to be for us."

"What makes you say that?"

Fortunately, the ringing of the phone saved Sydney from answering and she reached to her nightstand and answered it. "Joey's Pizza?" the voice on the other end asked.

"Sorry, wrong number," she said lightly, and Francie gave her a look as she hung up.

"Oh, that is so weird," Francie mumbled.

"What?"

"While you were gone, we didn't get even one wrong number phone call, and I thought that perhaps Joey's Pizza had finally changed their number."

"Huh," Sydney grunted. "That _is_ weird. Hey, do we have any ice cream?"

"Just my 'Cherry Garcia'. None of that coffee crap you and Will like—he ate the rest of it while you were gone."

"Well, I'm going to go get some," she made a face at Francie as she swung her legs off the side of the bed. "And then, how about we sit around and watch movies all night? Sound good?"

"Sounds great," she agreed as Sydney stood up to cross the room. "But, Syd, are you sure you're okay?"

She stopped in front of her dresser and turned to look at her friend. "I'll be okay. But, thanks for asking."

Agent Woods was waiting with a big smile as Sydney approached him in the warehouse. "How was your trip?" he asked her as she brushed his question off.

"It was fine. I just wanted to come home early."

"Oh," he nodded, but he looked like he didn't really believe her. He ignored his own doubt to be able to get down to what he'd called her for. "We definitely missed you around here. Ready to get back to work?"

She took a significant deep breath and blew it out. "Yeah, I guess so. What's up?"

He reached for a file behind him. "Well, we've had a…a development."

"What kind?"

"The blank page your father switched from the journal. We figured out how to read it, using the liquid from the vial you retrieved from Vaughn's house."

"Oh, yeah?"

"You might want to sit down for this."

The look on his face intrigued her and scared her at the same time. "Just tell me, Woods. What is it?"

He held out the file for her to see for herself. "Here."

Opening it up, she stood in shock to see a sketch of her own face. Her mouth went dry for the first few seconds, and then she finally was able to ask, "What does this mean? Do we know what it says?"

He nodded. "They've…translated most of it. I've got it right here," he picked up a second file from the table and pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to her as well.

Sydney read:

_This woman here depicted will be the one to transcend time and space. She will defy it unlike any other. And her offspring in the fourth generation will bring great triumph over her enemies. Without her unselfish decision, the world as she knows it will end._

"What does this mean? It's obvious that I am the one 'to transcend time'. I went back in time, Woods. Big deal. But what is this 'fourth generation' crap?" she pointed to the words on the page.

"We don't know yet," he shrugged.

"Okay," she sighed. "If the 'enemies' mentioned here is the Alliance, does that mean that they won't be taken down until I have a great-great-grandchild?" She sighed again. "That means that I'll be a double agent forever."

"No," he shook his head. "I don't think that's it. There's got to be another explanation. Maybe they translated it wrong or something."

"Maybe." She looked at her watch. "I should go. But when you find out anything else, let me know as soon as possible."

"I will, Sydney. Take care."

"You too."


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19:**

Sydney excused herself to her room before the old movie she and Francie were watching was over, when she knew Vaughn was going to be going back to eighteen-ninety at any minute, and she felt the emotions of the event coming to the surface. Up to that point, she'd managed to ward off any questions that Francie had about Vaughn, and she just wanted to let the subject slowly dissipate, knowing that it would be easier once he was safely back in the past.

Once in her room, she took the pearl and diamond ring he'd given her, back out of her jewelry box where she'd put it for safekeeping until she could give it to Weiss, and slipped it on to her finger once again. She'd worn it all the way home as if it were a natural part of her finger, and while she was taking her bath earlier that evening, she'd toyed with it, and took it off then to keep Francie and Will from asking unwanted questions.

Staring at the beautiful ring, and remembering how sweet he'd been when he gave it to her, she could feel herself getting choked up, and suddenly she found herself crying, complete with body-wracking sobs. She held her queasy stomach with one hand, and covered her mouth with the other as she backed up to her bed and sat down, trying to control it. But she couldn't, and soon Francie burst in, crossed the room, and without hesitation, she pulled her into a hug.

"Oh, Syd," Francie comforted; listening to her friend cry on her shoulder. "You really do love him, don't you?"

Sydney didn't want to answer; she didn't want to admit it out loud, knowing there was nothing she could do about it, but she felt her head involuntarily nodding, even as she kept trying to stop the sobs from choking her.

"Did Sydney explain to you that you will be going back on the same day you left?" Dixon asked as they walked toward the Eiffel Tower early Monday morning.

"No," Vaughn shook his head somberly. "She didn't get to that."

"Okay," Dixon nodded. "Well, you'll be repeating everything you did that day, and you'll even see Sydney again--"

"I'll see her again?" he looked up expectantly.

"Yes," Dixon answered, giving Vaughn a curious look. When Vaughn turned his attention back to the path ahead of him, Dixon brushed it off and told him, "Just don't follow her this time."

Vaughn nodded in understanding and stared at the Eiffel Tower as they approached it, suddenly realizing how tired he felt. But it made sense. He couldn't sleep at all the previous night, so he'd let Dixon have the bed, and he'd stayed up all night, standing on the balcony or sitting on the bench they'd shared, replaying the events of that wonderful week he'd spent with her.

His heart ached to see her again, and now knowing he was going to, but there was nothing he could say to her that would keep her with him, it killed him.

Once he was back to his time, he did in fact repeat the events of the day. He had to be fitted again for a new suit he was having made, and he had to talk to the same annoying man who was interested in buying a parcel of his land. And that afternoon, Elizabeth came for her visit.

Just as before, she breezed into his room and deposited her hat on top of the Rambaldi journal he'd been studying on his desk without a second thought, and then practically floated out onto the balcony to see him. "Hello, darling," she sang in French, approaching him for their regular, greeting kiss.

But unlike the last time, he had started drinking his wine early, and he backed away from her to avoid her advances. "Michel, what is it?" she asked curiously. "What's wrong?"

"Elizabeth," he said, setting down his glass to take both of her hands in his, preparing to say the words he'd been planning in his mind all day. "I've been wrong…about us."

"What do you mean?" She had a look of innocence mingled with her haughtiness that Vaughn was sure was put there just for show. So he plunged ahead.

"Since I asked you to marry me, I thought that you and I could grow to love each other—that our marriage would eventually be a happy one. I've been waiting for the day to come when I would feel…content to be with you." He could see that she was waiting for the "but" by the look in her eyes. "But…" he shook his head, "I don't think that day will ever come. And that's not fair to you."

"Are you calling off our engagement?"

Vaughn slowly nodded. "Yes."

She suddenly dropped her hands from his and backed away. She took a few deep breaths as her expression turned cold and angry. "You know that you'll lose my dowry."

He furrowed his eyebrows at her in surprise. "I never wanted to marry you just for the money. It was because our parents--"

"You can tell yourself whatever you want to, Michel. But all marriages are made for the money."

"Some are made because of love," he argued. "Surely you believe that."

"Not in this life," she spewed. Walking back toward his room to reclaim her hat to leave, she tossed over her shoulder, "Good luck finding love, Michel." 

Once she was gone, Vaughn shook his head, thankful that was over, and turned back to his wine and his view, watching as the day grew older. He thought of Elizabeth's final words with regret and pain and sorrow. What she didn't know was that he _had_ found love, and he just wished that he could get her back.

Sydney spent much of the night in tears, feeling the loss of Vaughn once she knew he'd gone back. She didn't sleep much, but she'd finally drifted off about fifteen minutes before her phone rang that Monday morning. She answered with a groggy hello, and was surprised to hear her father on the other end.

"Sydney, something's come up. You have to go back."

"Go back?" She was still half asleep.

"The Prophecy says you are supposed to go back in time."

She shook her head. "No, Dad, the prophecy said I _would_ defy time. I did that already."

"I don't think that's all. You're forgetting the last half of it."

"You mean the part about my great-great-grandchild?"

"Yes, exactly."

"What about it? So, what? The Alliance will be around forever," her voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"It's Weiss."

"What's Weiss?"

He sighed as if he was getting annoyed, and Sydney took that as a bad sign. He explained, "Sloane called me last night, and told me he was taking on a new agent to help take the load off of you. He told me his name: Eric Weiss."

"What??" Now Sydney was wide-awake and sitting straight up in bed.

"Weiss told you he was starting a new assignment this week, right?"

"Yeah," she remembered, "Yeah, he did."

"This is his new assignment. Becoming the new double agent inside SD-6." He let that absorb for a moment before continuing. "I believe that he will be the one to take down the Alliance. _He_ is your descendant as the prophecy states."

"Dad, that's insane! How could that be? Do you have any proof?"

"Not yet, but I'm working on that."

"And how could I possibly have descendants that were born before my parents???"

"I don't understand it myself, Sydney, but you may not have a choice in the matter. Just as you thought that going back would change the course of history, _not_ going back may do the same thing."

She was confused and surprised at the same time. "How did you know I was thinking about going back with him before?"

"You're in love…it…was an emotional choice. But I knew you would rationalize and make the decision to stay."

She was stunned that he knew... "Dad…I…"

He didn't let her try to finish explaining herself when no explanation was needed. "I'm going to call Marshall to find out how long the window is open, and then I'm coming over to pick you up," he told her.

"But Dad, I can't actually go back! I'm not ready--"

"Get ready. I'll be there in an hour, and we can talk then."

He hung up before she could protest any more, and Sydney sat staring at the phone in her hand. Was he serious?? Or was he trying to get rid of her? She got up out of bed believing that she must be dreaming, and she went to make herself a strong pot of coffee.

Will was already in her kitchen, sipping on a mug himself. She looked at the clock and noticed it was only seven a.m. "What are you doing here so early?"

"I'm taking Francie to breakfast before her morning class."

"Oh," Sydney commented, with her eyebrows crossed curiously.

"We, um…" Will stuttered to explain. "We—we're starting to become …_more_ than friends," he told her sheepishly.

Sydney rounded the wall at the end of the counter to enter the kitchen to face him. "What??" The morning was just full of surprises.

He tried to keep from blushing. "Well, a-a couple of days ago, we…we…kind of…kissed."

"What?" she repeated as her face lit up. "Francie didn't say _anything_!!"

"Yeah, well, she thought you'd think it was too soon after Charlie--"

"Oh my gosh, no! I'm so happy for you guys!" she hugged him as they both grinned.

Will took a breath before changing the subject. "So, what's happening with you and Vaughn?" he asked over her shoulder.

She took a sharp, deep breath and stepped out of his arms to make her cup of coffee. "I don't know."

"Was that him that called a little while ago?"

She looked up from getting her mug from the cupboard. "No, that was my dad."

"Oh. Does he know about Vaughn?"

Sydney thought about that for a moment as she poured her coffee. "Yeah, he met him in Paris. He…he thinks I should go to be with him," she said, mainly to gauge Will's reaction.

"He does? Well, that's _good_, right?"

"Yes and no," Sydney mumbled, stirring in her sugar.

"What do you mean by that?"

She sighed, wanting to explain, but couldn't find the words. "It's…complicated," she finally said and Will took her by surprise by asking his next question.

"Because of Danny?"

"No," she said a little too quickly, which made her feel guilty for not giving Danny that much thought when it came to Vaughn. When Francie came out of her room before she could explain her answer, Sydney thought she might be saved from the subject.

But Francie bluntly asked Will, "So, did she tell _you_ what's keeping her from being with Vaughn?"

Sydney rolled her eyes, and took a sip of her coffee as Will rounded the counter to stand next to Francie and answered, "No, but her dad wants her to be with him, and I _think_ she was getting ready to tell me why she doesn't want to go, but she's avoiding the question."

They both looked at Sydney, who said, "What is this? A mutiny?" They just raised their eyebrows, intent on waiting for her answer. She tried to turn the focus off of her. "I guess I was too interested in hearing about _you_ guys kissing," she directed at Francie with a smirk.

Francie hit Will's shoulder. "You _told_ her??"

"Ow," he held his arm. "Yes, I told her. Didn't you want her to know?"

Ignoring his question, Francie carefully asked Sydney, "Are you mad?"

"No, I'm thrilled," she answered honestly, and then came around to hug Francie's neck as well.

Will was the one to get them back on track. "Francie told me that you love him, so what's the problem?"

The two women stared at each other, and Francie shrugged. "I just wondered that if you love him, then why you don't want to ever see him again?"

"Okay," she sighed again. "I'll tell you why. But after that, will you just leave it alone?"

Both of her friends answered with nods and whispers of "okay" and "sure".

She thought of a plausible story and explained, "Vaughn is…in the Witness Protection Program."

"What??" they both breathed at the same time.

"I don't know where he is now, and even if I did, and I chose to go with him, I would _never_ see you again."

"Never?" Francie asked, but Will was asking another question.

"Is he involved with one of those crime families that never forget their enemies until they're dead?"

"Something like that." _Whatever works_, Sydney thought. "And I…I could never leave my dad and my best friends for a life like that."

"Syd," Will said, taking a step toward her. "You know we love you, right?" Sydney nodded. "We both feel like if you have a chance to be with the man you love—no matter what that would mean—we would want you to take it."

"But it's not that easy," she whined.

"Love usually isn't," Francie answered for the both of them. "You have to fight for it. And Syd, whatever makes you happy is ultimately what's important."

Sydney looked between her two best friends in amazement. "You really think I should go?"

They glanced at each other and then back at her and nodded. Francie spoke for both of them, "We want you to be with him, and so does your dad, so what's holding you back?"

Tears stung her eyes, and she stepped between them and simultaneously hugged both of their necks. "I love you guys," she said instead of answering. After all, they couldn't know exactly why she didn't think it would work out anyway; because of the fragility of the space-time continuum.

"We love you too," Francie said, as they hugged her back. A minute passed by and Francie finally said over her shoulder, "And as much as I'd love to stay here, my stomach is growling and I don't want to be late to class."

Sydney giggled as she let them go, and found herself wiping away a couple of tears. "I'm so glad to see you both happy."

"Yeah, well," Will started, "we were thinking about making one of those pacts where if neither of us was married by the time we're forty--"

"Oh, shut up, Will," Francie told him. "We _were_ not."

"All I'm saying is that this works better." Both girls waited for his explanation and he shrugged. "We're getting a ten-year head start."

Francie actually paled. "You think we're going to get married?"

"No," he answered too quickly. "I mean, maybe, but, you know….we're just…it's only been three days, so…oh, geez…This is going to be an awkward breakfast now," he rubbed his forehead and shook his head as Francie and Sydney laughed.

Francie leaned over and lightly kissed him. "That's okay, Will. I like to watch you when you're flustered, trying to extract your foot from your mouth."

They laughed again, and then Francie said to Sydney, "Goodbye, Syd. Remember, whatever you decide, we'll be happy as long as you are."

"Thank you," she said with misty tears forming in her eyes. "I won't forget."

Each of them kissed her on the cheek then, before Will led Francie out the door with a hand on her back. Sydney sat down on the stool and stared at the closed door in awe at her two amazing, most unselfish friends she'd ever known.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20:**

Vaughn was standing on his balcony as his pocket watch neared ten o'clock, and he anticipated Sydney's first time travel to his house. He set down his glass on the railing, and wandered into his room to take one more look at the pages of the journal before she would take it for the last time.

When he heard a noise on the balcony, he did as before and stepped through the second set of doors, and immediately walked over to the edge, where he saw the grappling hook attached from her entrance. Walking to stand in the doorway peering into his room again, he saw her, and she was breathtaking.

Unlike before, he couldn't say anything as he stared at her, knowing it would be the last time; he wanted to cherish it. He watched her hurriedly pack the pages back in its case to take it, and quietly he studied her. Her long brown hair was braided—he hadn't remembered that. And the form-fitting, black turtleneck she was wearing revealed her thin waist he'd gotten used to wrapping his arm around as they slept; her long neck that he loved to bury his face in and kiss; but it was her full lips that he found his gaze lingering on, as he missed her and her kisses.

When she was through packing up the book, she cast a hasty glance around the room and saw him. Their eyes met and she froze, but she didn't look frightened; she was merely intrigued.

After a moment, she seemed to collect her senses, and with the book securely against her chest, she turned and ran out of the room. "Goodbye, my love," he whispered once she was gone. He slowly walked back out on the balcony, and he could see her dark figure running across the grounds toward the gate, leaving him forever.

"Dad, this is crazy," Sydney continued to argue, fifteen minutes after his arrival at her house with a copy of the prophecy. "What if we're completely wrong? Then I'll be stuck a century away and if I'm with Vaughn and that's not meant to be, then I'll subsequently ruin generations of people."

He sighed, finally seeing her point. "You're right. We do need more proof." As if on cue, it was at that moment his phone rang. "Bristow," he answered matter-of-factly. "Yes, we were just talking about that…Really?" his expression changed and he looked at Sydney. "We'll be there in twenty minutes." He hung up and turned to Sydney. "That was Weiss. He has proof."

Sydney's face paled at the same time her heart jumped into her throat. "What?" was all she could choke out. 

"We're meeting him at the warehouse. Let's go."

Twenty minutes later, Sydney and Jack walked into the warehouse together to be met by Weiss and Woods. After initial greetings, Weiss got to the point. "Okay, first of all, I guess you probably know by now that I'm going to be working at SD-6, starting today."

"Yes, Sloane told me last night," Jack answered, waiting for him to continue.

"Secondly…" he hesitated, and it was then that Sydney could tell that he seemed a little pale, even in the dim light. "I had my pictures from Paris developed yesterday, and I didn't really pay attention to them until this morning." He picked up a packet of photographs and held them in his hand, staring at the outside cover. "When I went to Vaughn's house, I took pictures of everything, but the curator kept following me around, aggravating me—apparently they don't get very many visitors." He rolled his eyes as he paused. He continued, "So, I didn't really pay that much attention to what—or rather, _who_, was in the paintings."

He opened the packet and pulled out the top picture. "But, when I saw this, I…freaked out," he admitted, handing Sydney the picture.

It was a photo of the painting that had been missing when she was at Vaughn's house; a family portrait of Michael, his young son, and his wife, that was clearly _Sydney_. "Oh my god," she breathed, passing the picture to her father, although she was unable to take her eyes off of it. "I can't believe it."

"So, I guess this means you're my great-great-grandmother," Weiss said; his dry humor coming out in the awkward situation. "Although you're making a funny face in the picture, I recognized you right away."

Sydney almost laughed, as she took the picture back to study it some more, letting her eyes fall on the young boy. Their son was the spitting image of Vaughn, but his hair was the same color as Sydney's, a perfect combination of them both. She suddenly felt like crying, overwhelmed with anxiety. "Dad?" she said looking up at him, needing more reassurance.

He looked at his watch. "Marshall says that the window closes Tuesday morning local time, so we have just enough time to get you there."

"So, Dad, I'm just…going to go?" She was beginning to get nervous about it.

Weiss spoke up for him and asked, "Syd, you love him, right?"

Sydney suddenly became conscious of every breath going in and out of her lungs as everyone around her waited for her answer. "Yes, I do," she was finally able to admit out loud, knowing there was finally going to be a solution to her problem.

"Good. Then you'll be happy. And if you don't go, then I'll…" His voice faded when he realized that everyone in the room already knew the consequences.

"Weiss," she complained and then looked to all of them. "This is huge."

"Yeah, it is," he agreed.

Her father stuck to business. "Sydney, we have to get you to a plane."

She turned on the practical part of her brain she used in missions, turning off the emotional side and nodded at her father. She stepped forward and tearfully hugged Weiss who was closest, thinking about his sudden shove into life as a double agent. "Are you going to be okay?" she asked concernedly.

It was Woods' turn to speak as Sydney backed away from Weiss. "He'll be fine, Syd. I'm gonna be his handler."

She seemed relieved with that news. "Good," she hugged Woods too, casting another glance over at Weiss. "Take care of him for me."

"I will," Woods promised, releasing her.

"Bye, Grandma," Weiss just had to add, and Sydney laughed nervously.

"You think that's funny now," she teased back although she was nervous. She wiggled her finger at him, playfully scolding him, and then turned to her father.

He asked, "Ready?" and Sydney swallowed hard and nodded. She stopped suddenly and turned back, digging into her pocket.

"Oh, Weiss," she pulled out the pearl and diamond ring and held it out to him. "Vaughn gave this to me—I thought you should have it."

"Um, Syd…considering he's gonna be your husband, don't you think you should keep it?"

"Well, I might be wrong, but because we took it from his house this year, then he should still have the same ring in eighteen-ninety, right? If I take it with me, then we'll have two." She looked around for the consensus and everyone eventually nodded. "Michael and I would want you to have it," she said confidently, and Weiss accepted it then with his thanks. Satisfied she was done saying goodbye, she then turned to follow her father back out of the warehouse with a final wave at her two former colleagues.

On the plane ride back to Paris, Sydney went between discussing what would happen to what she was leaving behind with her father, to staring out the plane's window in silence, eager to see Vaughn again. Jack assured her that he wouldn't let Sloane or the Alliance do anything to her friends or their families, and Sydney trusted that he would do just that. It was unlikely they would be in any danger, considering they wouldn't know anything about her disappearance and they would mourn her loss with everyone else once Jack successfully faked her death.

But it was in the quiet moments that she could practically hear her heart racing with excitement to see Michael again. She thought about what she would say when she saw him, and what his reaction might be. Sydney could see his smile, and feel his hands and his lips, if she just closed her eyes—

"Sydney," Jack interrupted her current thoughts of Vaughn and she turned to him beside her with a nervous smile. "We don't have much time, and there are…some things you need to know."

She tried to stop what she was sure would be an awkward speech. "Dad, I know--"

"Let me speak," he demanded softly, and Sydney obediently sat back in her chair to listen. "It's…it's about your mother." He took a deep breath to prepare himself and he noticed he had Sydney's full attention. "First of all, she…" he paused nervously, "she was not really a literature professor. She was an undercover agent with the KGB."

Sydney's mouth dropped open. "What??"

He nodded slightly. "She was sent by the KGB to seduce and marry an agent…me..." he shrugged, "in order to obtain information about a certain project I was working on at the time."

She could feel tears building in her eyes. "You mean…she didn't really want to be with us?"

"I don't know for sure, but I'd like to believe that she did once."

Sydney started to realize something and tears built up. "But I wasn't supposed to be part of her mission, right?"

"Sydney, we both wanted you," he assured her. "From the moment we found out she was pregnant with you, we were both ecstatic."

"She was?"

His eyes lit up, remembering. "I'd never seen her as happy than when she was holding you."

That made her feel better, but only slightly. "Well, did she really die in the accident? Or was that a lie too?"

"No, that was true…except that I wasn't with her when it happened."

"You weren't in the accident?" He shook his head. "Then what really happened to her?"

"She was being chased…" he confessed, "by an FBI agent who was investigating her. They crashed; their cars went into the river—that much was true. I didn't want you to know the rest; I wanted you to be able to have a happy childhood."

"But, Dad, after she died, my childhood…with you," she said carefully, "…wasn't exactly pleasant."

"I know," he nodded shamefully. "And I'm…sorry about that. But there's another reason for that. Before her death, she killed a dozen CIA operatives, and because I was her husband and also an agent, I was imprisoned for six months, when it was thought that I was working in collusion with her."

"She killed…?" she choked and was unable to complete her thought.

He nodded. "Yes."

Sydney let that absorb for a minute when another question came to mind. "And you knew all of this…since I was a child?"

"I did, but I thought it would only hurt you to know." She seemed speechless for a moment, so he took the opportunity to explain, "I wanted you to know before…"

"I never see you again," she finished for him, feeling herself starting to cry. She nodded and sat back in her seat, looking out at the clouds beside the plane through her watery eyes. "She was a murderer," she painfully thought out loud.

"Sydney," Jack touched her arm, getting her to turn back to look at him. "I was very bitter about your mother for a long time. And I will probably never forgive her for what she did to me and to you. But, I have always felt that you were the only good to come out of my knowing her. You've made me proud by raising yourself while I was absent and becoming such an incredible woman. You're the best agent I've ever had the privilege of working with."

"Dad," she whimpered; her voice thick with emotion. She turned her body and hugged him, with tears brimming her eyes. "Thank you…" She swallowed some of the sobs, and forced the words past her throat. "Thank you for telling me…and for everything. Especially for the last few months. I don't know what I would've done without you."

He kept her in his embrace, and Sydney let her tears continue to fall, as he said, "I love you, Sydney."

She sniffed and swallowed another sob to manage what she wanted to say. "I'll love you forever, Daddy," she told him, before burying her head into his shoulder to cry her goodbye.

It had been four hours since Sydney had come to his house to steal the journal, and he'd painfully watched her leave. Vaughn had given up the wine glass to hold the bottle, and sat out on his balcony, cursing the moon for rising so beautifully when he was hurting so badly.

He was sitting on the floor, leaning up against the wall for an hour, with his father's now broken watch in hand. He cursed at that too for mirroring his broken heart. And when his rear-end started to go numb, he ignored it. It wasn't until his feet went to sleep that he figured he'd better move if he wanted to walk again. Setting the bottle down beside him, and struggling to stand up, fighting against the numbness and the alcohol in his blood, he tried to shake it off. When he finally had some feeling back in his legs and feet, and he wasn't afraid to take a step, he started pacing to get rid of the sharp needle-like pain traveling through his lower limbs as it became more awake.

He thought about his future as he walked around, wondering what it was going to be like. Before, when he'd had his unhappy relationship with Elizabeth, the future hadn't been clear, and what he did see was bleak and miserable. _What's changed?_ he thought bitterly. Only when he had been with Sydney had he felt alive; he felt like he was fulfilling his life-long dream of having a marriage like his parents' had been. There were many a time he'd watched them hug and kiss, and even when they would just look at each other, he could see the love there. He wanted that too, and only with Sydney had he felt that a marriage like that was possible.

Sydney had planned to knock on the front door, but once she arrived at his house, she hesitated. Because it was the middle of the night and it would be hard to explain who she was, how she was dressed in pants, and why she couldn't wait until morning, it didn't seem like a good idea any more. But she was desperate to see Vaughn. So she meandered to Vaughn's balcony, to see if she could get in the same way she'd gotten in the first time.

She smiled when she found the anchored rope still hooked over the balcony railing as she expected it would be, and climbed up the rope, half-expecting to find him sound asleep in his bed. But his room was still lighted as she tossed her leg over the railing and came to stand on the balcony floor. She froze when she saw him walk out of the doors twenty feet away. She was hidden in the shadows, so he didn't see her, and he leaned up against the wall between the two sets of doors, sighed loudly, and rubbed his face, staring back at the moon.

As much of a mess that he was, he was still a sight for sore eyes. Sydney wanted nothing more than to hold him and kiss him, and it all had to start with getting his attention. Taking a step toward him into the light, she called out, "Michael."

His head snapped up at the sound of her voice and his mouth dropped open as he stared at her for a long minute. "Sydney?" he finally asked, and she was sure he thought he was hallucinating by the disbelieving tone in his voice.

She took another step forward and nodded nervously. "Yes."

"You came back?" He was clearly confused.

"I came back to be with you," she answered, hoping that her words would straighten him out. She further convinced him he wasn't dreaming by adding, "I love you."

He was in front of her in three long strides, and wrapped his arms around her, breathing her in. He couldn't believe it was true, but he spoke the first words that came to his mind. "I love you so much." He followed that confession he finally got to complete saying to her wakened state, by asking the obvious questions. "How did you come back? I mean, what about the future--?"

She interrupted in order to explain his questions away. "Weiss is our great-great-grandson," she told him.

It took a second for that to register, and he pulled back to look into her eyes. "'_Our_'…?"

She smiled shyly. "If you'll have me."

Kissing her fully was his way of answering, pulling her tight against him, and deepening the kiss as much as he possibly could while they were standing up. Sydney didn't mind it and let herself fall into his firm embrace, and feel his tongue pleasurably sweep through her mouth.

They were both breathless and lightheaded when they finally broke apart and leaned their foreheads together. "I'm so glad you came back," he whispered, deep with emotion.

"I am too."

He tilted his head back. "What about your father? And your friends?"

"They gave me their blessing. They wanted me to be happy, and the only way I could be happy was with you."

He kissed her again in response, and held her face to meet her eyes again. "I love you," he repeated. "I wanted to say that all week."

"Me too," she admitted.

Vaughn suddenly felt his knees weaken with fatigue, and he laughed, "Suddenly, I feel so tired."

"Why?"

"Well, it's probably because I didn't sleep at all after you left."

"I didn't either," she smiled. "I guess we should get some sleep."

"Mm-hmm. But, I don't have a guest room made up."

"We could share," she bit her bottom lip nervously after her suggestion.

He just grinned and turned to pull her into his room. "You know, I don't think I would want it any other way," he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulder comfortably.

"Doesn't your mother live here?" He turned to look at her beside him and nodded. "How are you going to explain me to her?" she wondered out loud.

"I don't know," he admitted. "But I'm sure we'll think of something by morning."

She grinned, thinking of waking up with him in the morning again. "But, I thought you were tired," she just had to ask with a teasing lilt to her voice.

His face matched hers. "I am. But I want to spend the night with you."

Sydney actually blushed, feeling the heat travel all the way to her toes. "So…you don't want to go to sleep?"

Stopping beside his four-poster bed, he pulled her into his arms, making Sydney grin and show the dimples that he loved so much. Then he answered her question, leaning in to prepare for another smoldering kiss. "Not just yet."


	21. Epilogue

**Epilogue:**

"Eric, come on," Sydney scolded their eight-year-old, standing at his bedroom door. "It's your turn to sit."

"Aw, Maman. Do I have to?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Monsieur Patrice is waiting."

Eric dragged his feet as he obediently followed Sydney down the stairs to the living room where the painter was set up with the half-painted canvas, as he filled in their faces during a half-hour long sitting. Eric sat down on the stool and made a face.

"Eric, straighten up."

He straightened his back with his mother's scolding, and actually managed a smile. Sydney grinned at her son, who had his gorgeous father's looks, except for the straight brown hair, just like she remembered from the picture Weiss had shown her of the painting that night she'd come back in time. Sydney was thankful for the fact that he had his father's stunning green eyes, but mostly she was thankful that she had the selfish pleasure of gazing at those eyes on her husband every day and night for the rest of her life.

She was still thinking about him when she felt his arms slip around her waist from behind her. "Hey. I was just thinking about you," she told him and leaned back into him pleasurably.

"How's he doing?" he nodded to their son.

"Good, so far. Of course, it's only been five minutes."

Michael laughed and ran his hand over her growing stomach. "And the other one?"

"She's fine," she smiled over her shoulder at him.

"You're so sure this one's a girl."

"Mm-hmm. I knew Eric would be a boy."

"Yeah, well, you had a little help with that one." She'd told him on her first night back about the painting, and seeing their son at this stage of eight years old, just over a year before he was born.

"Yeah, you're right, I did. But with this one, I just have a strong feeling that she's our daughter."

They were both quiet for a moment as they watched Monsieur Patrice work his magic on the canvas several feet away. "It's turning out pretty good," Sydney said, and then found herself giggling as she looked at herself in the picture.

"What's so funny?"

She kept her tone soft so that their conversation wouldn't be overheard. "Weiss… He told me that I was making a funny expression in the painting." She pointed to her already painted face in the portrait. "The whole time I was sitting there yesterday, I was thinking about Weiss, and how he will see this someday."

"Mm," Michael agreed behind her.

"I didn't realize I was pregnant in the picture."

He bent to kiss her neck and then tilted his head to study the painting a little better. "No, I guess you can't tell."

"Would you two stop that in public?" Vaughn's mother, Amèlie, scolded their display of affection as she came into the room.

Vaughn stepped back slightly, but Sydney held his arms around her. They'd had this discussion before.

"Maman," he started to explain. "I love my wife, and I'm not going to be ashamed to show her just how much, especially in my own house."

"At least don't behave that way in front of your son," Amèlie relented, and Michael could tell she was remembering her own young love-filled marriage.

"Are you offering to watch him for us?" Michael asked, stepping in front of Sydney, holding her hand behind his back, preparing to pull her away. "I _would_ like a few minutes alone with her…to _discuss_ some things, if you wouldn't mind making sure Eric sits still."

Amèlie eyed him suspiciously, but finally agreed with a smile. "Alright. But don't be gone too long."

Michael pulled Sydney in the direction of the stairs. "I just have…something to tell her."

Sydney waited until they were in their room behind the closed door, before she asked, "What do you have to tell me?"

He smiled, revealing his teeth, and his dimples in his cheeks that only showed up when he was really happy. She'd seen them that night she'd come back to be with him, and on their wedding day, and a thousand times in between. And she was almost always the only recipient.

"I love you," he finally admitted, wrapping his arms around her waist.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You told your mother that you had something to _discuss_ with me."

"Oh…yeah," he said when he realized he was caught, and he bit his lip. "I wanted to ask," he said, and Sydney knew he was making it up as he went. "Are you really happy? Is there anything I could do to make your life here better?"

She draped her arms across his shoulders, and looked thoughtfully toward the ceiling. "Hmm…" she thought about it, and let her eyes fall back to meet his. "There's only one thing I can think of."

"What's that?"

Leaning toward him to prepare for one of his breathtaking kisses, she answered, "More of this."

_The End_

_…but continued in the sequel, "A Past Life"._


End file.
